Blanket of Stars
by WaveGoodbye
Summary: Very AU. Falling in love for the first time is scary enough, right? Add a ghost to the mix.
1. Introduction

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing but the words and the occasional OC.

* * *

When I was little, I used to think we were all related. That every person who came over to our house, or every person that invited us to theirs, every person that stopped my mother in the street with never ending questions about what she's been up to since the last time they crossed paths, were part of a huge family. I don't know if it was just child's logic, or if it was something that came from being raised in a small town. It was something I grew out of.

I used to think that if I slept with any of my limbs hanging off my bed the disfigured man living under there would pull me underneath, never to see the light of day again. Unfortunately, that's something I haven't grown out of. Realistically, I know there is nothing underneath there except for dust. My irrational fear was due to an overactive imagination from my childhood.

People can be disfigured in such a subtle way that you may never notice. It usually runs deep, underneath the surface. Twisted thoughts, unforgivable acts they've taken part in, secrets they're trying to hide.

Everybody knows everybody else's business around here. Nothing gets past anybody. If a husband were having an affair, it wouldn't stay secret for long, surely? That could be true, but it most likely isn't.

People are good liars, and people do denial well. I find that many people I've come to know are just a mirage. There is at least one person that knows something about you that you wouldn't want them to know. Over time, I'd find out something about you, too. Perhaps accidental. Perhaps not.

If people don't think you're listening they can inadvertently share their deepest secrets with you, or somebody else's.

I'm good at keeping secrets. I don't use what I overhear against anybody. Even if I don't agree with it, it's their business, not mine. I think it's important to have time to yourself during the day, to breathe and catch up with life's demands, to be yourself - whoever that is.

I don't judge people. If I don't like somebody, then I'm not the kind of person to make it into a big deal. I just don't care to speak to them. I probably sound like a hypocrite.

Sometimes, I used to wonder if I'd ever overhear something that would change my life forever. I wasn't sure if that was something I should have anticipated with glee, or something I should have dreaded like a bullet.

People talk constantly. Usually, about each other. Mostly, about nothing life-altering.

I used to wonder if they did that to avoid talking about themselves: to keep their secrets hidden. Now, I know.

That's how I found out a house on Kenwood Avenue was sold. The same house on Kenwood Avenue that was supposedly haunted.

I wasn't even aware it was up for sale. However, eventually, it was brought by a middle-aged couple who had a teenaged daughter.

Some people said they had to move because the daughter was banned from the California state; some said she doesn't talk because a drug dealer cut out her tongue; and a few were saying she had just been released from a juvenile detention centre. One person said she killed somebody.

Those rumours were what first peaked my interest. The fact that nobody knew. The fact that everything was just that: a rumour. I don't like second-hand information. I prefer to find out for myself. It isn't very often that happened. Usually, if people moved here, they knew someone, or had been here before. But, not them. They were something nobody knew anything about, and I, for one, was impressed. I never expected to find out what I did. I never expected the things that happened, to happen. I never expected to feel like this.

But I should have, because you should _always _expect the unexpected. Always expect people to surprise you. Sometimes they won't surprise you how you want, and sometimes you'll want to hate them…but what is the point of hate? What does it prove? It proves nothing.

Sometimes you have to learn that the hard way. Sometimes, you're just lucky. Trust people to be who they are, no matter who it is. My father used to tell me the stars in the sky were souls of the deceased: that they watch over us at the darkest times to keep us safe. That was something he stopped telling me a long time ago.

I'd believe anything he tells me. He's a smart man. The kind of man that was born to be a father. I was never born to be a mother, but I'm okay with that.

I was born to be hers. I'll _always_ be hers.

Let's go back to the beginning.


	2. Fade in

I'm not a huge fan of early mornings, but I don't despise them. It's nice to go to bed late and get up early sometimes. It can make you feel like one of the only people in the world: being awake when everyone else around you is sleeping, existing only in dreams, nightmares. Hearing the sounds the world makes, breathing in the fresh air that has yet to be tainted, seeing the sky change colour, and watching the stars fade out for the sun.

They say you're almost paralysed during REM sleep. So, my question is: what would you do if you were trapped inside your own body? If you could control your dreams, what would you dream of? Would they all be concerning the same matter? Would you try to control somebody else's? Would you do something great?

I'm standing on the edge of the sidewalk, hovering a foot over the asphalt and slowly dragging it over a loose piece, I like this sound.

This road gets fairly busy. I come here a lot but sometimes I forget why. Most of the time, actually. People say they see me here sometimes. They forget to mention they never talk to me.

I see the same people at the same time almost every day. They don't speak to me, but they give me a nod of recognition. I appreciate those. I see the same cars over and over again, with the same people in the same seats. There's a car approaching that I've never seen before. It's not from around here, and neither are the people.

The girl sitting in the back of the car is looking right at me, right into my eyes. She doesn't look like she knows she's doing it.

A removals van isn't far behind them. They must be the new family from California. All new families look strange the first time you see them drive up to their new house opposite yours. My mother used to be the kind to drop off some kind of welcome gift to you, but that's something she stopped doing a long time ago. I haven't asked her why. I'm afraid of the answer.

My feet carry me to Kenwood Avenue on autopilot, something that happens frequently. The removals van is parked and the people occupying the black SUV exit, each looking fatigued as they enter the house for what I assume to be a strong cup of coffee. I've never moved house, so that's all I can do: assume.

The large master bedroom window now holds the frame of a beautiful girl, the girl with identical eyes to her mother. She looks like she doesn't know what to think of the mediocre neighbourhood. I could tell her my opinion one day, born and raised mediocre neighbourhood resident at her service. Somebody could listen to me for a change.

I haven't really got close friends anymore. I think maybe we just drifted apart, people drift apart everyday. I'm not the first person this has happened to, and I certainly won't be the last. It's just a part of life.

Mr Banks is on his way to get his morning newspaper, his old bicycle sounding like it's going to fall apart any second. He smiles at me, nodding his 'good morning' my way. I smile back and bring my hand up, moving my slender fingers back and forth, waving to him; until the next time.

He's a nice old man. I don't know why only a handful of people acknowledge his presence.

The girl in the window doesn't look at him. she must be deep in thought with the questions that I can only assume fill one's head once they move to a new state.

The rumour about her tongue being cut out is false: she just dragged it over her lips. I smile at people's idiocy and kick a small rock an impressive distance away from me. I take one last look at the person who I've originally dubbed 'the new girl', and notice her eyes are resting on the rock that's just come to a stop in the middle of the road. She isn't looking at me. I think I must be hidden in the shade.

After stopping to pet a black labrador affectionately, I walk away from Kenwood Avenue. I should look for my brother. Sometimes he's on the outside basketball court on third street, but I haven't seen him there for a while. I think he must like to be alone. Babies smile at me a lot. It makes me smile, too.

My old friend Erin is walking to school with a friend of hers I never really liked, and neither of them so much as glance at me. I won't lose sleep over it.

I used to enjoy school. People say I was especially popular. I would never use that word, but I was well liked. My attendance isn't worth mentioning these days. I hardly ever show up to class anymore, and when I do, I get the silent treatment. Even from the principal.

Those thoughts quickly diminish and, throughout the day, my legs carry me to destinations I've been to countless times before exploring as a child, sights looking eerily similar to each other. People's actions looking robotic, stuck in routines.

One thing has stayed with me all day: how she looked me in the eyes. I won't forget that any time soon. The wind tousles my hair and I think that finally, home sounds good to me. I head back, my feet walking the same paths they always have; right back to Kenwood Avenue.

I enter through the back door and can see the same furniture and belongings I always have, except this time, they're becoming blurry. There's something else there now, something unfamiliar.

Things seem out of place somehow, that scent, that energy. Those boxes.

I think the new family live in my house.

The new girl has my room.

I want it back.


	3. Realisation

**AN: **Thank you muchly for the reviews. I promise the chapters get longer as they go on. The first...three, I think, or four, are short-ish before they begin to grow in length.

* * *

I feel like everyone does when something has been taken from them without permission: angry and defensive. This particular something has four walls; four walls that keep me and my family safe. I need them.

"What are you doing in here?" spills from my lips, uncharacteristically without thought and smothered in hostility.

The new girl whose name I still don't know has her back to me, she's sitting on my floor in my bedroom opening one of her boxes. She doesn't answer me. I think perhaps she's one of those people who permanently have their iPod playing and you have to tap their shoulder to gain their attention.

I don't understand how a mistake like this can be made. What kind of person moves into a fully furnished house, complete with breakfast dishes still in the sink waiting to be washed? Perhaps they're blind.

"Excuse me," I say, a little louder than last time.

Her movements indicate unawareness so I place four hard, loud raps to the open door, causing her to look up sharply. My hand comes up in the air. "Hi. You're in my room," I say, a little pathetically.

She's aware of how stupid those words were because she turns back around and continues on with unpacking her boxes. I want to tell her to stop unpacking because she isn't staying; that this is my house. The sentence dies on my lips. If my mother was here she would know what to say. She can be very persuasive when she wants to be.

I can prove I live here. If you walk to the blurry dresser, take one step to the left and kneel down, you'll see my name and the date we last decorated. It's hidden by a blurry lamp but if you know where to look, you'll see it.

In the corner of the kitchen she would also see my, admittedly, faded and blurry height chart. She would see this house belongs to me.

I decide to move from my spot in the doorway and walk into my room, heading straight toward her. I stand behind her, taking note of her sun kissed shoulders. She might want to cover those soon. It gets cold in Ohio, far colder than Los Angeles.

Her bed frame looks as though it was the first to be set up. She still needs sheets.

I clear my throat in an attempt not to startle her. On too many occasions I've had people talk without alerting me to the fact they were in the same room before-hand. The new girl looks around my room and lets a displeased sigh escape from her lips. I try not to take it personally but it's not something I can help.

"God," she murmurs with her hand running through her long brown tresses.

I walk closer to her. "Hey," I whisper near to her ear.

She wipes at it like it's itchy and I think that maybe she needs to clean them out. I'm certain my features reflect my confusion. After all, it's not every day you come home to find you have unwelcome lodgers. Ignorant unwelcome lodgers. Perhaps it's my small town nature, but I fight back the urge to yell at her. As my father has always said, violence never solves anything.

My legs carry me to her unmade bed and I rest my weight on the edge of her mattress as I watch her slide some boxes to the corner of the room, piling some on top of each other to create more space.

She doesn't look happy and I watch intently as her eyes close and a shaky breath escapes her lips.

Something about how defeated she looks makes me want to comfort her. "Look, if you really want to stay, there's a nice house for sale about ten minutes from here. I could take you there," I offer, leaving the statement hanging open.

Her eyes open and scan over my cream coloured carpet that I've spilled countless dinners on after assuring my mother I'd be careful, right up to the bed and right over my body. She does a double take, frowning at my collarbone. I don't know what my collarbone has ever done to her.

Maybe it's too pale for her liking, it's a rare occasion for my skin to appear sun kissed.

Even the boxes look expensive. Too expensive for this mediocre bedroom in this mediocre house in this mediocre neighbourhood.

"Mom!" she shouts, her tone and expression conveying her bewildered state.

I stand up, fully prepared to talk to her mother and graciously accept apologies for invading my house and personal living space.

"Mom!" she yells again, turning her head toward the door and then back at me.

Her mother appears in her doorway looking irritated. I'm sure it's just a side effect of being tired. I imagine moving house to be stressful. "What is it, Ashley?"

"Um, where are the towels? I want to take a shower."

Her mother is quiet; she must be thinking. "I think they're in the living room. If you find them bring me one, too."

"Sure," Ashley tells her distractedly, unknowingly looking into my eyes for the second time today.

"Anything else?"

"No."

I barely notice her mother leaving the room and I don't dwell on the fact she didn't so much as glance at me because _she's _looking at me.

And, just like that, the moment is over. She's left the room in search of her towels.

My mom should be home from work soon. I know she'll sort out this mess. I don't dwell on the fact it's been a long time since she actually came home from work. I think I must be dreaming. I have to be.

"Mom!" I hear Ashley shout from downstairs. "I can't find the…oh never mind, I got 'em!"

Her mother's sigh reaches my ears and I have to smile at the exchange. I used to be terrible at finding anything. I could look in the same cupboard three times and come out with nothing, yet all it took was one attempt from my mother and bam, hot chocolate two minutes later.

Footsteps approach and Ashley walks right past the open bedroom door and into the bathroom before closing the door after her.

I take this as my cue to leave. I can't do this alone, anyway. I'll just wait outside until someone comes home. People are far more likely to listen when you're a little older. On the wall in the foyer there's our blurry family portrait: it's four years old and I have a look of pure innocence on my face. Perhaps that's the reason why nobody will listen to me.

I close the front door quietly and make my way to the edge of the driveway. I like to sit on the small wall surrounding the grass sometimes.

My eyes are drawn to the sky, each star seeming to shine brighter than the last. I don't remember the last time I saw our family car in the driveway, and I think it's been far too long since I've seen my mother.

It's only now as I gaze up to the sky, to those bright stars, that I'm starting to realise my place among them.


	4. Wall Talk

An orange hue eventually takes residence of where the moon lay mere minutes ago. I think I've been sitting here all night, though I don't remember any of my thoughts, but just a constant longing I've been trying to block out for months. Months that feel like a lifetime. I almost feel like a five year old again, running too fast and tripping over my own feet only to crash into the floor and cry out, immediately calling for my mother.

Except now there are no rushed footsteps hurrying toward me to pick me up, there are no maternal embraces that somehow make _everything _better, and there are no comforting words. There is a distinct and painful lack of contact, and there is silence.

Each time I attempt to remember the last time I saw any of them, I fail. Deep down, I think I've known for a while. It's almost like when you've known something about somebody for years and then they finally pluck up their courage and tell you themselves: you knew, but it's so different and unfamiliar hearing it out loud.

My thoughts sometimes deafen me, making me wish for company more often. I have to find my family soon, the world is only so big and it doesn't look like I have a time limit.

I don't remember the day I got used to existing without my family. I don't remember when it changed from missing them almost more than I could bear, to just missing them, telling myself they would be home soon.

The unmistakable sound of my front door being unlocked and opened reaches my ears, effectively interrupting my chain of thought and causes me to turn around. It's Ashley. She cringes when the door clicks shut in a less than subtle manner and I remember how difficult it was to sneak out of the house because my mother was always a light sleeper. I used to sleep like the dead. No pun intended.

Those words are suddenly strange and unfamiliar and cause me to shake my head. I can't be dead. I think I'm just having a really bad, vivid dream. I must have ate cheese before bed.

Ashley walks over the freshly cut grass and if my mother were here, I know she would tell her not to. Her unabashed swagger keeps my eyes glued to her hips; so much so that it takes a few seconds to register that she's now sitting next to me. She's just sitting there, she hasn't even got a cup of coffee in her hands to keep them warm. I don't know why she's out here. Ashley can't see me, that fact is painfully obvious, but I know she heard me knock on her door yesterday. Maybe I just need to practise.

I clear my throat and lean toward her ear. "Boo," leaves my lips darkly, the look on my face no doubt expectant.

Her hand reaches up to her ear, wiping at it again. I notice that she's wearing glasses and wonder what she would do if I took them off her face and put them on my own. If I were her, I'd be halfway down the street as soon as I felt them leaving my face. My idle fingers tap against the rough bricks, trying to resist the urge to touch her fashionably wide, black framed glasses.

Ashley clears her throat and I look over to her. She's looking at the space my hand is occupying.

Blue is breaking through the swirl of orange and small, white clouds are scattered about the early morning sky. I shift closer to her and hold out my slender hand for her to take. "Hi, I'm Spencer," I introduce myself politely.

She looks unimpressed -- bored, even. Her eyes are on a 'hi' I carved into the wall when I was nine years old. I went through a phase of writing that word on everything. I wonder if it was subconsciously written for times like these: to make people feel less alone when that's all they really are.

"Hello to you, too," she says.

I know she's not talking to me directly but it makes my face light up, regardless. I'm sure of it.

I bring a leg up so it's resting on the wall, twisting my body around to look at her properly. She looks like one of the best sights these ocean-blue eyes have ever seen. "Don't scream, okay?" I say unnecessarily before lifting my hand toward her face.

Her attention is suddenly captured by a car starting up at the bottom of the street, causing her head to jerk to the right and causing my fingers to come into contact with her soft brown hair. I don't move them, they remain still, barely moving and hardly touching.

The car loses it's appeal to Ashley and she moves her head back around. My fingers immediately leave her hair.

Is this what it's always going to be like? I silently ask myself. Nobody consciously looking or talking to me. Is that how I'm supposed to live for eternity? My lip trembles pathetically and my fingers stubbornly push against the hard surface I'm sat on, trying to think about something other than this. Anything but this.

This can't be happening.

I wonder if anybody can actually pin-point a time in their life when they knew it was changed forever. I wonder if Ashley's has happened yet, and I wonder how many people out there pretend like it never happened.

I need something familiar. I need Mr Banks to smile at me and I need to wave back to him and be sure he saw me. I almost always see him on his bike, he hardly ever walks anywhere and he's usually on his way to get his morning newspaper before he returns home to his wife.

I need my brother to put his arm around me and say "get over it, you pussy," in the way that only he can say to make me feel better.

I'll find my family soon. I have to. Or, perhaps I'll wake up.

Ashley and I sigh at the same time and it makes me want to ask her why she's sighing. She's alive, she can do anything she wants. I can't do anything. Not really. What could possibly happen to me now? I can't even make friends with the girl next to me. At this moment in time I'm nothing but thin air to her impossibly gorgeous eyes.

* * *

When I return back to my house in the afternoon after my walk the only person who seems to be in is Ashley who, unknowingly, spent the early morning keeping me company. She has the television on, busy watching an episode of _F.R.I.E.N.D.S_. I roll my eyes and sit on the couch with her, keeping a seats worth of distance between us. The remote is resting on the untaken seat and I watch her smiling at a scene before I press the channel up button, the picture on the screen changing to lions mating.

She frowns and changes it back causing me to smile and press it again, turning the volume up louder. I don't know why I'm doing it. If I was alone in a new house and the channel kept changing, I'd be at a neighbours faster than a bullet. Glen used to tell me I needed to toughen up. I guess he wasn't wrong.

Another frown appears on her face. "What the hell? Stop it," she says, almost absent-mindedly, to the remote before switching it back.

I smile at her tone. "No, I want to watch the lions having sex."

She doesn't look at me and, just like that, my smile is gone. Bugging people isn't going to stay amusing forever. It's going to get old, fast. "Please talk to me," I ask of Ashley, quietly.

Ashley sighs and mutes the picture on the screen as her body moves back, her arms raising above her head to stretch while a satisfied moan leaves her lips.

I close my eyes when I'm certain I won't get a response. I want to wake up now.

She gets to her feet before walking over to the stairs and taking two at a time. I wait until I hear the door of my bedroom close before taking a deep breath.

Her parents are probably at the supermarket. I'm pretty sure people don't do the grocery shopping _before _moving house. My feet move to the bottom of the stairs that had to be cleaned countless times from Glen's muddy footprints.

I was never one for impressions but I'll make an exception, just this once. "Ashley, come and help me put these groceries away!" I yell to her in what I hope to be a good impersonation of her mother's voice.

I wait for an answer that doesn't come. "Ashley, we're back!" I hear the deafening silence and close my eyes when I feel myself beginning to get angry. "Ashley!" I yell again, much stronger than before.

"What?!" is her yelled but muffled reply from behind my bedroom door.

It's only one syllable.

It only takes one second to say.

It's all I need.


	5. Meet the Parents

Reviews Love. Thank you very much. I'm glad those of you who haven't read this before are liking it.

**Conscious - **Haha. No worries, you'll get an update a day until it's done. This was written last year, actually. I'm just editing parts and re-posting it.

* * *

Isn't it strange how your eyes see something over and over again, yet they skip over an essential detail? Something you should have noticed right away and figured out just as fast.

I stopped believing in the tooth fairy the day after I paraded the gummy gap between my teeth with pride, excited to slip into my dreams only to wake and find money underneath my pillow to spend on candy to speed the money process up from the next tooth.

I awoke with four quarters under my pillow. One whole dollar to spend on whatever my heart desired. To say I was happy would have been the understatement of my then seven-year life span. The flawed grin of mine was quickly wiped off my face when I found out Glen had received one whole dollar, too. I didn't believe in coincidence. No, that was cleverly planned by my conniving parents.

I was bitter for a long time. It was at least two hours before I got over it and ate a dollars worth of pain and betrayal in the form of pop rocks. I think I had a sugar high for about a week.

One of my favourite Christmas memories is when I was about seven years old. I woke my parents up at six-thirty in the morning and they told me to go back to bed and wake them in ten minutes, so I did just that. I sat on my bed trying to imagine the gifts Santa had given me. When I was certain ten minutes had passed, I woke them up again and smiled when I saw my mother's exhausted features.

It was another twenty minutes before we could wake Glen. He wouldn't get out of bed and I didn't understand why. I mean, for the love of god it was _Christmas_, you don't sleep in on Christmas; that's what the new year is for.

He was always first to walk downstairs and then it was me. I don't know who was first out of my parents and back then I couldn't have cared less, I just wanted to know what materialistic goods Santa had given me for being such a good girl for most of the year.

I still remember the sound that left my lips when I saw an unwrapped _Disney's: The Jungle Book _video on the floor by the front door, and I still remember pushing past Glen to pick it up and claim it as my own.

My father told me Santa must have dropped it on his way out and I nodded in agreement, clutching the VHS tape to my chest.

It wasn't until a few years later I realised they should have left it by the chimney. I was always a little slow. I never realised at the time that on all of the gift tags when it was signed _'Santa xx', _it was my mother's handwriting.

I'd give anything to see her handwriting now.

* * *

For the past seven nights I've been sleeping on the couch. I don't really sleep, I just rest or think a lot. Ashley has been down here every night. It's never a specific time. She just puts on music so softly, so quietly that I can barely hear it and falls asleep a few hours later, next to me. I think she must have insomnia.

Each time she descends the stairs in a sluggish pace, holding onto the thick banister with one hand and using the other to tuck a stubborn lock of hair back behind her ear. Her tanned toes always sink into the plush cream carpet with each step she takes. Ashley's hands are never clutching a blanket to keep herself warm in this winter weather. My eyes are continuously drawn to her uncovered feet over the hours she's with me. They must be very cold.

She's sleeping now. I think she's forgotten she was cooking a hot pocket. I don't want to chance her waking up and seeing oven gloves in mid air, holding her black hot pocket. She'll ask for the water to be tested. Instead, I flick the light switches rapidly, causing her to flinch and move a cushion to cover her face.

Seconds pass by and her limp hand notifies me that she's fallen back into her dreams.

Yeah, well, life isn't a dream. Hot pockets are at stake.

If I'm honest, I don't care about the hot pocket. I just don't want my house to burn down.

I've been practising my communication skills. You'd think if you have a voice it would be a piece of cake, but if that's true, my cake is stale. My efforts haven't done a whole lot of good yet because the only other time Ashley heard me call her name was at the exact time her father decided to sneeze and ruin it. She looked up but it didn't hold her attention like I had hoped it would.

I leave the light on and lean over her from behind the couch so if she wakes up we won't head-butt each other. From this angle I can see her sleeping face perfectly and I have to say, it's beautiful.

The times Ashley has heard me have been when I was angry, so I think back to how I felt when I saw Glen's eight-year-old smug face informing me he had a dollar too. "Wake up," I say directly into her ear, my tone firm.

My decision to stand behind the couch was for the best as her body lurches forward suddenly, causing me to feel rueful for scaring her. Her breaths are laboured as she darts her eyes across the room in search of something. The faint smell of smoke quickly assaults her senses and she rushes into the kitchen.

I had a similar incident once, similar in the way it's not really similar at all. I pressed the zero button on the microwave one time too many. My popcorn was set to be on for thirty minutes. Thankfully I remembered six minutes later when the movie was starting and my hands were empty. I didn't have the popcorn because it was ruined but, on the plus side, I didn't cause a fire.

I want to ask her why she'd put a hot pocket in the oven in the middle of the night. Whenever I would wake up hungry in the early hours, I'd just have cereal. Or, if I was feeling particularly daring, a sandwich.

Ashley doesn't talk much and she doesn't really go anywhere. I'd tell her to get out more if there were anyplace cool to hang out around here. I'd tell her to get out more if I didn't like her being around me so much.

I pick up the cushion Ashley knocked onto the floor when I startled her. I think that being careful not to scare her hasn't helped me at all because the only times she ever hears me is when I'm angry, or when I speak stronger than I ever usually would. Glen used to tell me that sometimes he had to hold his breath to hear what I was saying.

I laughed at him.

I miss him.

* * *

Ashley emerges from the kitchen five minutes later, the smell of air freshener following her from behind the door. Frowning at the cushion placed neatly on the couch, she blinks tiredly before making her way up the stairs with me a few steps behind her. I like my view.

I rush to get through the door before she closes it. I haven't tested that one out yet. I should have done that first but I didn't want to be a cliché. Though I probably should have because everybody is a cliché. Intentional or otherwise. We're so alike, every one of us. Small things are different, living habits, personal preferences over food and the like, but when it comes down to it, all we want is for somebody to notice us, for our lives to be changed, to have that special connection with that one person.

My eyes close when she takes off her top right in front of me. I don't look, that would be wrong. That's not to say I don't want to, though. My eyelids are twitching. I really shouldn't look…

The sound of her clothes falling to floor article by article fills the silence in the room. I don't hear her pick them up and fold them like I used to. I couldn't sleep if I knew my room was a mess.

I open my eyes and make sure to keep them at above her neck, the hand in front of my eyes obscuring my view from the rest of her body. She's making it difficult not to look when she keeps suddenly moving. I think she's putting on underwear. Something I'm grateful for, I imagine talking to someone you don't know when you're naked to be awkward. Especially someone you can't see.

Something black is pulled over her head, her hands pulling it over her torso and covering her stomach. I pull my hand back and watch her switch on a lamp before walking back over to me, her hand narrowly missing my shoulder as she flicks the main light off.

Ashley's bed is nice. It's comfortable-looking and bigger than mine ever was. Her pillows look soft, too soft for me. I like them firm. If I ever went to a sleepover when I was little I always had to take my own pillow because I could never sleep with anybody else's.

I sit on her bed the same time she does, not wanting to alarm her by feeling the mattress sink under my weight. She disappoints me by quickly leaning over and switching the bedside light off, plunging the room into darkness.

I look like a fish, constantly opening and closing my mouth. Words are on the tip of my tongue but none of them seem right for this moment. I think about saying _'here's Johnny',_ but I can't bring myself to say it, the thought alone is creeping me out. Glen is right: I really do need to toughen up.

In a dream I had when I was little once, I was walking to the bathroom and somebody behind me yanked on my ponytail. It scarred me for years. Every time I needed to use the bathroom in the night I would pull my hair to the side, gripping it and looking over my shoulder constantly looking for something that was never there.

My eyes adjust to the darkness much faster than I ever remembering them to and the stupidest three words I have ever uttered leave my lips: "Don't be scared."

I almost think I hear her heart stop before she jumps out of bed and switches the main light back on. A baseball bat is gripped tightly in her raised hands and I'd be scared if I didn't know she can't see me. The way her eyes are darting around the room and how, after a few seconds, the bat is slowly being lowered makes me think she wonders if she was dreaming.

"I'm not going to hurt you," I say to her, attempting to get her to calm down. It doesn't work, she looks terrified and immediately I feel guilty.

"Dad!" she yells, her fear coming through her one spoken word.

"I'm sorry," I tell Ashley, truly not meaning to scare her. I don't ever remember scaring anybody before, not even when I was trying. I told Glen I'd kick his ass once and he laughed right in my face, hard. I forgave him an hour later when he undressed one of his action men with narration. I laughed so hard my stomach hurt.

Ashley's parents hurry through her bedroom door and she grabs her father's arm as soon as he's close enough, hiding behind him. Turning around, he asks her what's wrong. He sounds awfully concerned.

She falters for a second. "I just had a bad dream."

"Oh," Christine says, quickly running a hand through Ashley's hair. "Go back to sleep, honey. It wasn't real."

"Yeah…" she trails off absentmindedly, her eyes moving to every corner of my room.

Her parents exit the room and begin to pull the door shut when she calls out to them, "Can I sleep in your -" she stops, shaking her head. "Nevermind. Goodnight."

It takes her nearly fifteen minutes to be able to walk over to the bed again, and it takes her almost an hour to lie down. The light stays on.

I don't talk to her again, and when daybreak hits and I'm sure she's asleep, I lie down next to her.


	6. And So It Begins

**A/N:** Thank you _so _much for the reviews. As always, I'm glad everyone seems to be enjoying this.

**SpashLuva** - I've had sleep paralysis before, too. The dark shadow and all. It's not fun.  
**Goober** - Read the chapters carefully and compare them to the others posted you-know-where.

* * *

For me, the scariest movies aren't horrors. Thrillers always stay with me so much longer. I saw _The Hand That Rocks The Cradle _when I was about six years old and remember telling my father that no matter what happened, I was never going to have a Nanny.

The only time I laughed during that was when Glen did an impression of the little girl in the movie shouting "Peyton" from the stairs. He's so funny sometimes. Funny in the way only a little sister could find amusing.

I'm not sure why I was always allowed to watch whichever movie I wanted, regardless of the rating. I had a friend when I was little, her name was Shannon and her parents were really strict about letting her watch movies with the appropriate age ratings.

I can't imagine being an only child. I would have been so bored without having Glen to bug or having him around to try, and more often than not, succeed in bugging me. We prank called the cops once and when our mother confronted us after listening to an angry policeman, we pointed at each other to take the blame. Ashley didn't have anybody to point at.

* * *

She's hardly started to unpack. The boxes from her old house are still in the corner of the room, untouched. She gets out what she needs and leaves the rest. I noticed that she doesn't attend school and her parents don't seem fazed by it at all. My parents would hit the roof if I dropped out of school. I joked about it once.

It went down like a ton of bricks.

Her parents both go out to work at the same time everyday. I don't know where they work, I'll have to ask Ashley about it. I just have to work on not terrifying her first.

She's just getting out of the shower. I heard the water stop a few minutes ago and thought I'd give her some privacy and wait downstairs. I'm going to try talking to her again when she gets down here. There are no baseballs bats down here. I checked.

She's taking too long and I'm impatient today. I even woke her up this morning by tapping on the window. I know, I'm evil.

I put the television on, the volume going to the highest setting before I sit back and wait. To my surprise, Ashley doesn't hurry down the stairs as I predicted. She's either got a bath full of water in her ear, or she's hiding in the bathroom or my bedroom.

I'm so silly. Of _course _she's not going to run down here when the television switches itself on. I'd throw myself out the window if it were me. Or, perhaps something a little less dramatic.

After I switch the television off I walk up the stairs slowly, idly remembering how many times I tripped up them when I was rushing. I'm lucky I didn't bite my tongue off. I can be such a klutz.

The bathroom door is open and my bedroom door is shut. I do the math and knock lightly.

"The money is downstairs," Ashley tells me unnecessarily and nervously.

I knock on the door again and she shouts that the cops are on the way. I highly doubt that. There isn't a phone in her bedroom because it's on the kitchen table. I push down on the door handle and proceed to push it open, only to have it slammed back in my face, her body pressing against the other side.

"I'm serious! They'll be here any minute."

"Open the door," I say clearly, her audible gasp reaching my ears through the wood separating us.

The door is swung open and Ashley is dressed like she just threw on her clothes in two seconds flat. She scans the hallway up and down with an almost defiant expression on her face. "I'm not hiding from a girl; show yourself."

Oh, if only. "Don't be scared," I repeat my words from the other night and I know she recognises them.

"Get the fuck out of my house," she tells me harshly, not looking at me at all.

"It's not your house, Ashley," I challenge back, more than ecstatic she's talking to me.

I watch in amusement as her eyes widen. "Are you stalking me?"

I think about her question. Am I stalking her? Would my behaviour be classed as such? I'm still smiling. She's still glaring. "You don't understand."

"The hell I don't. You broke into my house!" she yells fiercely.

This is so much fun! I can't believe we're talking, even if she does hate me right now. "Reverse that," I tell her, taking a step forward.

"What? Where the hell are you?" she asks, looking around.

"I'm right here," I state, standing next to her. I can tell I'm beginning to scare her again, even though she doesn't say anything. "I won't hurt you."

Her breathing has picked up and I see her swallow nervously. "If you don't leave right now, I swear I'll call the cops."

"Do I sound like the kind of person who wanted to hurt you?" I ask her. The confusion she feels is reflected in her eyes and I carry on, "I'm Spencer. It's nice to finally talk to you."

"Finally?" she asks with trepidation.

I nod unnecessarily. "I've been trying to talk to you for weeks now, you just didn't hear me."

Her eyes look everywhere but me as she says: "You tell me that you won't hurt me and then you say you've been here for weeks. What are you talking about?"

"I grew up in this house," I confess and after seeing her alarmed expression, I carry on, "Please don't be scared. I swear I won't hurt you."

"Why can't I see you?" she asks me suddenly.

"I'm, uh -" I stop there, not quite sure how to answer that question without terrifying her. "People see me sometimes, it's just not very often," I say softly, hoping to keep this exchange of words going for as long as possible.

Her eyes scan the hallway again. "So, you're not hiding in another room talking to me, or something?"

"No, I'm right in front of you," I clarify.

She takes a deep breath and runs a hand through her damp locks. "I'm…this is…wow, you know?" she struggles to get her words out.

I think wow is an understatement, and then I think that perhaps calling it an understatement is an understatement in itself. "I'm sorry. I know this must be really weird, and if I were you I'd be hiding under my bed." No, really.

"I think I took the wrong pill this morning."

"Do you want me to touch you?" I ask in an attempt to convince her I'm real, not knowing if I can actually make contact with her skin.

Ashley's eyebrows raise. "Are you hitting on me?"

"No!" I squeal, blushing furiously. We've barely had a conversation, for god's sake.

She fails in her attempt to be subtle pinching her wrist and rolls her eyes when I assume she feels some kind of pain. "So, you're…" Ashley trails off.

"Yeah," is all I can reply.

Her hands enter her pockets and she rests her weight on one leg. "I don't know what to say to you, Casper."

I frown at the nickname. "Don't call me that."

"Why not?"

"Because I said so," I reply as firmly as I can manage. "Why aren't you screaming?"

"Because you're a mouse."

I'm a little offended. She knows nothing about me. I could be a serial killer for all she knows! "And you know this, how?"

"Every word that's left your lips," she says, staring at what she thinks is me, but in actual fact is just the wall in the opposite direction.

I make my way past Ashley and into my bedroom. It takes me a minute to locate her baseball bat and even less to pick it up and tap her on the shoulder with it. How she spins around and gasps with wide eyes makes me presume she's re-thinking her mouse comment.

I slap the bat against my open palm and remember the last time I actually held one: it was when Glen was trying to teach me how to bat properly. I could never hit anything and, eventually, pissed him off so much that I could suck so much that he aimed the ball right at my face.

I hit it.

It went through my parents bedroom window but I hit it. He gave me the hardest high-five my hand has ever received, it stung for hours. Sometimes when I think really hard I can still feel it.

I throw the bat to the floor making sure I avoid her feet like the nice person that I am. "Don't call me a mouse again," I tell her in what I hope to be an intimidating tone. I hope I didn't mark the floor, I threw the bat pretty hard.

"Is that a threat?" she calls out to me.

"Friendly warning," I reply. I don't know where I got these hypothetical balls from.

Ashley takes three long strides forward and unknowingly puts her face near to mine, looking behind me. "Yeah? Well, take your friendly warnings and invisible ass out of my house."

Her unfriendly tone makes me smile, because really, who reacts like that?

"I'll be seeing you," I say, watching her eyes attempting not to widen, and walk away happier than I've been in I can't remember how long because finally, somebody spoke to me.

Somebody noticed me.


	7. Guardian Angel

I shoplifted once.

It was the first time I remember my parents letting me go out without either of them, just Glen to keep me safe. And I knew he would. Back then, even if I never said it, I trusted him with my life.

He always got more allowance than I, and he was always running off, leaving me to explore another part of the store where the more expensive candy was. I was always near the front. The farthest I ever made it through those aisles back then was the time I dropped my money and it rolled away from me, leaving me to chase it across the store to the middle section.

I can't remember what I was holding, but my hands were getting full so I put some of the candy I was going to buy in my pocket until I sorted myself out and I must have forgotten about it because I bought something totally different. It wasn't until I got home and took off my coat that I noticed the tube of _Refreshers _in my pocket.

I was a criminal.

I told my mother immediately and asked her to take me back to the store to give them back, thinking I'd be on camera and they'd track me down. She just smiled at me and told me to eat them.

Candy never tasted so good.

* * *

Ashley and I haven't directly spoken to each other since yesterday, but I feel that's been a good thing. I'm still high from it. She ran into the bathroom this morning and slammed the door shut yelling that I better not look through the walls.

She's getting a little ahead of herself.

I watched on with amusement as I watched her attempting to act nonchalant at dinner last night when I was sitting at the table. All I was missing was a plate and some food. Her face was quite the picture when the chair next to her moved out a little to allow my body room to sit. Her parents walking through with drinks halted any words that were about to leave her lips.

Shame.

I like to think of the look I'm sure she'd be giving me if she knew I was sitting next to her watching her shovel popcorn into her mouth. She eats like a pig, surprisingly. I wait until her mouth is full of Dr Pepper before I say: "Hi again."

My body moves backward as the liquid sprays from her lips, a smile playing on mine.

"For god's sake!" she shouts irately.

"Miss me?" I ask, picking up a piece of her popcorn.

She flicks it from between my thumb and forefinger and we both watch it fall to the floor. "I told you to leave. Don't make me tell you again."

"Actually, you told the wall to leave. And, I'm no architect but I think you'll need that to stay there for the house to stay upright."

Ashley sniffs her soda.

I frown briefly. "There's nothing in there."

The expression covering her face tells me she's irritated and I again wonder why she isn't scared. I meant it when I said I'd be hiding underneath my bed. Hiding underneath my bed with my laptop searching for new houses, that is. With a ring of salt around me.

She looks put-out as she slants her jaw to the left and exhales deeply. "You know, I don't remember performing a _séance_."

I don't pay much attention to her rude behaviour. "Do you want to hang out? I could maybe show you around."

"Stop hitting on me."

"I barely even know you, so why would I be hitting on you?"

"Because I'm the hottest thing you've ever seen."

I take the bowl of popcorn from her hands and rest it on my lap. "Nice self esteem you have there: describing yourself as a thing."

She snatches the bowl back as a frown creases her forehead. "Whatever. You're freaking me out, please just leave."

Underneath her slight hostility there's a layer of fear clearly visible which makes me feel terrible. "Okay." I nod slowly, biting my lip. "I'm sorry if I scared you," I add on as I stand up.

Ashley is engrossed in her popcorn and doesn't look up when I open the door and leave the room. I assume she thinks she's gotten rid of me, but she definitely hasn't. I'm giving her time to allow everything to sink in and one nights sleep, unfortunately, isn't going to do that. I'll go back later. I don't like being out too late at night when I'm alone, which strange because sometimes I like walking at three o'clock in the morning. I just don't like being out any later than midnight for some reason unless I've been home first.

I used to think girls were so silly to be out alone in the middle of the night, that anybody could attack you, that anything could happen to you, but then I started to think that if people see you aren't afraid to be out alone at night then they will probably leave you alone.

It's all about appearances and the look in somebody's eyes. If you smile at people and don't go out of your way to make somebody unhappy you're a target, but if you don't smile and you change the look in your eyes people do a double take and over-look you. Not even daring.

I saw some kids having a water-fight on their front lawn a few weeks ago. I wouldn't dare to have one of those in this weather unless I wanted to contract pneumonia. Only in the summer. _Every_ summer. Not that I would have a water-fight at my age. At seventeen -- or eighteen, if you include the past year, I like to think I have long passed that stage. The last time I had one was when I was ten or eleven. Erin came over and at first it was just us, until the annoying boys from down the street launched a water bomb at me. Then, it was war.

The final straw was when one of them threw a cup of water directly in Erin's face. I was fuming. I had a really cheap water gun -- one of Glen's old ones, and I was trying to spray him in the eyes but he kept moving and got me in the face with water, too.

I still remember how, moments later, Glen came rushing out of the house with a bucket of ice-cold water and threw it over the jackasses.

My brother is pretty great. Well, sometimes. You know how big brothers can be. Like the time he punched me in one of my just-forming breasts. I scratched one of his cd's for that. After I went to my room and let the tears form and fill my eyes, of course. I mean, it really did hurt.

He was the first person I came out to. The only person, actually. We were in the living room and my parents were out when he was imitating a feminine boy from the next street, making me laugh because he sounded nothing like him. I told Glen he was gay and he said he was as gay as I was.

I don't think he meant it quite like that.

"I am," quietly left my lips with my eyes set firmly on his face.

He took it much better than I imagined he would. At first he didn't believe me, but it soon became apparent that I wasn't joking. The next day he made me skip school to go and check girls out, compare our personal taste and argue over which sibling they'd rather date. I was always the favourite. I showered regularly for one thing.

I don't think he ever knew what that day meant to me.

Ashley's parents will probably be home by now. Perfect time for a reappearance, I'd say. I leave the swing I've been sitting on for the past couple of hours and kick an empty soda can near to my feet.

I didn't go far and it only takes me ten minutes to get home. Every house looks like it always does. Every house except my own.

Her parents' car isn't in the driveway and it's a little strange because they've never been this late before. There's probably bad traffic.

I feel like using the back door today and make my way to the side of the house, walking around to the back. I caught Glen smoking pot out here once. He was as high as a kite. I didn't tell my parents because for the most part, Glen was good to me, so I was good to him. Besides, it was nice having something to hold over his head as blackmail. Sibling code, and all.

I've seen the back-door open more times than I could ever count, but never with one of the dining room chairs over-turned, too. I don't even think of running away. I quickly grab the nearest large object to hand and hurry to where I can hear a struggle.

A man I have never seen is standing over Ashley with his fingers wrapped around her throat, her fingernails digging into the skin of his strong hand. He shouts a word to her that I don't care to repeat and that's all I hear before I rush over to him, striking him over the head with the object I grabbed on my way in.

It happens to be a frying pan. I don't care that it's cliché, his fingers are no longer wrapped around her neck and his body is no longer hovering over hers. That's all that matters.

Ashley scrambles away from her attacker and moves behind me. She's hiding behind a frying pan to anybody else's eyes. I don't like the way she's painfully gasping for breath but I like the way nameless man is holding the back of his head. He needs to get out of my house. Now.

He takes one look at the pan and I think for a brief second that his eyes are going to pop out.

I drop the pan and walk over to him, shouting "get out!" directly into his ear.

He got the message when he saw nothing but a frying pan in mid-air. No, I don't think we'll be seeing him anytime soon. Not if he knows what's good for him.

"Are you okay?" I ask Ashley as soon as he's gone. I have a habit of saying stupid things to her, I think. Who asks a person that when they come home to find them being attacked?

She asks me if the doors are locked and I hurry to make sure both doors are locked before making my way back to the living room. "They're locked," I assure her. "I checked twice," I add on hastily.

Ashley nods and I see her jaw set as she attempts not to cry. Her eyes squeeze shut a second after her breath hitches and I frown, pondering on whether or not I should move forward and embrace her, or if it would just make matters worse.

"Don't cry," I tell her gently, instead.

She doesn't look as if she heard me so I kneel down next to her, brushing her hair away from in front of her face. "It's okay," I say softly. I can't touch her, not directly. I can only touch her hair and I can _almost _touch her skin. It feels like I have pins and needles when my hands hover before her skin. It's uncomfortable. I don't like it. "Do you want some water?" I ask.

Her head shakes the negative and I reach for the tissues on the coffee table, pulling one out for her. Ashley doesn't open her eyes and I brush the tissue along her cheek until she reaches up and takes it from me. "Can you lift your head up a little more? I need to look at your neck."

"I'm fine," she attempts to tell me, her voice hoarse.

Her trembling body tells me otherwise.

Standing up, I make my way to the kitchen and fill a glass full of water. She said she didn't want one, but I don't think she's thinking too clearly right now. I stop to pick up the up-turned chair, placing it back to its rightful place.

My pace is hurried as I make my way back to her and kneel next to her again. "Drink this."

Surprisingly, Ashley accepts the glass from me and takes a sip without another word of protest. "Are you hurt anywhere else?" I ask, concerned. She shakes her head again but somehow I don't believe her. "Do you want me to hand you the phone so you can call your parents?"

"My parents won't find out about this," she tells me as firmly as she can manage.

"You can't just -"

"I can," she interrupts. "You have no say in this."

"This is my house. I have _every _say in this."

"Good luck trying to tell them, Casper."

Her comment quickly shuts me up. Ashley is right. Who am I kidding? If she doesn't want them to know, it isn't as if I can exactly tap them on the shoulder or scream in their face.

She looks around the room quizzically. "Are you still there?"

I wonder if it's wishful hearing, or if she genuinely sounds worried I've left. I leave her to stew and count slowly to five, only getting to three before skipping four and five. "I'm here."

Headlights make shadows on the cream walls and Ashley gets to her feet a little unsteadily, causing me to hold out an arm for her in case she falls. It's a pointless gesture. Why would she reach for something she can't see?

"I don't want to be in here when they come in," she says.

"You can't hide this from them."

"I can do what I want. Just leave it, okay? Please."

I nod and add on "okay" when I remember that she can't see me.

Ashley makes her way to the stairs with me following behind. I don't know why I'm following her, nothing is going to happen on the way up here. Upon hearing the back door open, she stops, turning her head to listen.

"What?" I whisper.

She turns her body to rush back downstairs. "The chair."

"I took care of it," I assure her.

"Okay," she answers softly, almost looking confused.

Once we reach the top of the stairs, I sit down outside my bedroom and hear the door click softly, signalling its closure.

* * *

Five minutes later she re-emerges in her usual bed attire: boxers and a tank top, before walking into the bathroom.

I tell myself I'm not smiling like an idiot when she re-enters her bedroom and leaves the door open a little. I wait a few minutes until I get up and walk inside. I close the door slowly, giving her the chance to tell me to get out and smile inwardly when I hear nothing of the sort.

Ashley doesn't say a word when I lie down on the bed next to her, mimicking her position of staring up at the ceiling. I don't think she wants to be alone tonight.

That's a good thing because I don't, either.


	8. Pillow Talk

When I was little, I used to love weekends. Not just because it was a two-day pass to do whatever I wanted, either. After accompanying my parents grocery shopping, I mean. On a Saturday morning I loved getting up early to watch cartoons. I could give you a list as long as my arm about why I loved them. They're probably the same reasons you have.

On the mornings I couldn't get out of bed because it was so cold all my mother had to do was tell me the fire was on and that I could watch whatever cartoons I wanted, and I would practically fly down the stairs. It's inevitable that once you're used to a certain standard that everything else fails in comparison. Cartoons these days are nothing to compare. Old-school is where it's at.

I think it has something to do with a lot of them not actually being cartoons anymore. Nothing is original. I've noticed that, as time goes on, people get greedier. More becomes less. Nobody is happy with what they have and nobody looks at the things they do have, but instead focus on the things they don't.

Like right now, I could die for a good cup of coffee, if you'll excuse the pun, but it isn't something I dwell on. It isn't imperative. I'm willing to bet that if I asked the entire world what they wanted, more than half would answer with materialistic things. Unimportant things.

If it isn't going to change your life, why is it important? Less is more. At least, that's what I say. You're welcome to your own opinion, of course. As is everyone.

Why do people look for acceptance from other people? Everybody's opinion of normal differs and as my mother used to say (along with everybody else's), if your friends jumped off a bridge, would you do the same? Your own opinion, go with that. Your gut instinct, trust that.

Last night my gut instinct was that it wasn't the best time to prod Ashley for answers.

She fell asleep early. I heard her breaths even-out at around eight thirty and she slept facing away from me. If I used to go to sleep before nine p.m., no matter how tired I was, I would wake up in the middle of the night for hours and drift off again some time after sunrise. God, I hated that.

* * *

Ashley has been awake for almost thirty minutes, give or take. It's a shame because I was enjoying the view of her face smushed against her pillow. The few times I've seen her sleeping she's slept on her back with one arm underneath her pillow and the other behind her head. She usually looks uncomfortable.

"Are you in here?" she asks me with a low, sleep filled voice. Her eyes are closed.

"Yeah," I say quietly.

She pauses for a few seconds until a small, reluctant sigh escapes from her lips. "Can I ask you to do something really embarrassing?"

I smile slightly. "Sure."

It's a little while before I hear: "Will you wait outside the bathroom for me? I really need to pee."

"Of course," I answer, already getting up off the bed. I open the door and exit the room first, walking the relatively short distance to the family bathroom. "I'll just wait here," I say in a hushed tone, making sure I don't wake her parents. It's mere seconds before I realise that I could shout from the top of my lungs and they wouldn't hear a whisper.

"Okay."

I've fallen asleep out here countless times before. I've slept in every room of this house more than once. I wonder if there are people who have grown up in houses and only slept in one or two rooms. I don't know why I'd be curious about a thing like that.

I've even fallen asleep on the stairs for a few short minutes. One of the only times I got out-of-my-mind drunk I was crawling up the stairs and got bored halfway up, so I just lay there. Glen's foot poking at my ribs woke me up and I knew I hadn't been there long, because I remember him saying he'd be up in five minutes to make sure I hadn't choked on my own vomit. Isn't he a sweetheart?

Usually I don't really like talking on the phone. It's not something I hate but I just prefer to talk in person, which is why I always remember the nine-hour phone call I had with Erin once. I went in every room of the house except my brother's talking to her. I even ate bites of dinner sitting on the stairs while she was telling me about the two-week vacation she'd just returned from. There was a five-minute break twice when I had to pee like a horse, but I still round it up to nine hours. It's a nice solid number. I like it.

The toilet flushes and I don't have to wait long before Ashley emerges. I pretend not to notice her slender, tanned legs. The door closes and the loud sound is muffled some.

"Casper?"

"I'm still here," I assure her, forgoing the reminder of her not to call me that. It's not the right time.

Ashley doesn't say anything, she just walks into her bedroom and puts on a bedside light. Her eyes open and close rapidly, getting used to the harsh light. It's under those lights that I see the bruises which wrap around her throat. They aren't very dark, but I notice them right away. They make me angry.

"I won't be long," I tell her, standing by the door.

"Where are you going? You don't have to leave."

"I'm just getting something, I'll be two minutes, I promise. You can time it if you want," I joke slightly.

"Okay," she breathes out before getting back under the covers and propping her pillow up behind her back, leaning against her headboard.

I walk downstairs briskly and fight the urge to switch on some kind of light, not wanting to chance waking Ashley's parents. I get her a bottle of water out of the fridge and make my way back upstairs.

When I enter the room I see that one of Ashley's legs is wrapped around the top of the covers and I clear my throat, causing her to look up sharply, eyeing the bottle of water. She's trying not to smile. "Thought this might help," I say as I walk over to the bed to pass it to her.

She takes the bottle from me and I look away as she gulps down almost half of its contents. I always hated it when people watched me having a really long drink. I usually laughed and had a coughing fit.

"You're an angel," she tells me, putting the cap back on the bottle.

I don't say anything. Mostly because I don't know how to respond, instead, I just look at her and smile before looking around the room, avoiding her eyes. Not that she can see mine, of course. In the reflection of her closet mirror I can see her looking down at her hands and I see her lips moving. "Thank you for…you know."

The 'you know' she's referring to is definitely not the water. "No problem."

She almost smiles. "His face when he saw that frying pan was pretty funny."

I have to disagree. It was hilarious. "Who was it?" I ask bluntly, not seeing any point avoiding the issue.

Her face hardens slightly. "You don't waste time, do you?"

"I'm sorry." I shake my head. "I didn't mean to ask you so insensitively." My people-skills need some serious work. I can't help it, I can count on two hands the amount of conversations I've had in the past year.

Ashley nods while playing with the label on the bottle of water.

"Did you know him?" I ask carefully at her silence.

"No." She shakes her head.

"So, he broke into the house?"

"No."

I shift my body to face her properly. "Ashley, you're confusing me."

"When you left, I went to the store to get something and we met outside. You know how it is when you meet somebody and you start talking and they make you laugh. I invited him back here and things just…got out of control," she explains.

"You invited a stranger back to the house?" I ask rhetorically. "This town could win awards for the most boring neighbourhood in America, but that doesn't mean there aren't crazy people here. You can't just invite people over when you don't know them. They could be anybody."

"I know."

I sigh in concern. God knows what might have happened if I had stayed out any longer. "Are you okay?" I get a nod in response. "Are you hurt?" I rephrase. "Besides your neck," I say quietly.

"My wrist hurts but I'll be fine," she replies dismissively.

"Let me see."

Ashley turns the inside of her wrist over and I look down at the painful looking bruise. My eyebrows draw closer together in worry as my fingers reach down, brushing them over the air just above her skin. I get the same pins-and-needles sensation as I did earlier.

She pulls her wrist back like it was burned, holding it protectively to her chest. "Whoa."

"What?"

"I felt something," she rushes out.

"I won't hurt you, I promise."

Ashley repeatedly brushes her thumb over her bruised skin. Eventually murmuring: "I know."

We sit in a comfortable silence for a while until she decides to break it. "Where are you?"

"I'm sitting next to you."

She turns her body to face mine and I watch as her eyes burn into my throat. "Am I looking at your face?"

"No." I shake my head. I'm not a dwarf! "You're looking at my neck."

Ashley's eyes travel up past my lips and settle on my forehead. It makes me smile. How tall does she think I _am_? "How about now?"

"You're looking at my forehead," I reply, a smile evident in my tone.

Her eyes are on mine and my breath almost hitches. "Now?"

It takes me a second to find my voice. "Eyes," I whisper.

Ashley doesn't say anything. Instead, she keeps looking, brown set on blue. I could swear for a split second she didn't look as if she was looking through me. "What colour are your eyes?"

"They're blue," I reply quietly.

She quickly turns back around to her previous position. "I always wanted blue eyes when I was little. I hated mine."

"You're crazy, your eyes are beautiful," I tell her earnestly.

"Yeah, whatever," she dismisses as she picks up her bottle of water and takes another sip.

"I don't say things I don't mean," I insist. Her lack of response doesn't discourage me from talking to her. "Why haven't you unpacked properly?"

She shrugs indifferently. "I don't see the point."

"Why?"

"I just have a feeling we won't be here long."

A frown mars my smooth forehead. "But, why?"

A similar one mars hers. "Stop asking me questions."

I roll my eyes. "You know, I still can't sleep with my arms or legs hanging off the bed."

She sits there unresponsive for a while until she asks: "Why did you just say that?"

"Because it wasn't a question."

"But why do I care how you sleep?"

I shrug. "I don't know."

Ashley rolls her eyes and has another sip of water, her tongue briefly snaking out to run over her lips. I watch as she purses her lips together and turn her head toward me slightly. "Why can't you sleep with your arms or legs hanging off the bed?" she eventually asks of me.

"Stop asking me questions," I repeat her earlier request.

I swear I can nearly see a smile on her face. "I'm going to sleep now, Casper."

"Okay." I stand. "I'll wake you in the morning."

"Where are you going?"

"I don't know. Downstairs?"

Ashley shifts down the bed and lays her pillows flat once more. "It's cold down there."

"So?" I question her.

"It's not cold in here."

I smile at her thoughtfulness and get back on the bed. "Thank you."

"Yeah, sure."

The room plunges into darkness and Ashley is facing away from me. "Is your wrist okay in that position?" I ask, not wanting her to cause any more harm to her body.

Nonetheless, her body remains still. "Sleeping means I'm unconscious. I don't do conversations when I'm unconscious."

"Heavy sleeper, huh?" I ask.

"Sometimes."

"Have you always been that way?"

The room is silent when she tells me to shut up and go to sleep.

Somebody should really help me to wipe this smile off my face.


	9. Comfort

Thank you for the reviews, guys. :) Never apologise for the length of a review. I appreciate them all.  
**Conscious - **As I say to anyone who's anyone: You can call me anything you want. I'll just overlook the fact I'm four years older than you. ;)

* * *

When I think of songs from my childhood, I immediately think of the mixed tapes my parents used to make for our road trip vacations. They were songs I heard constantly for a certain period of time but my first thought is being in the car and my mother telling me to turn the volume down on my game boy because one of my songs just came on. I think she did that because she could no longer stand the constant sounds of 'Tetris' or 'Mario'. She would play them so loud I couldn't hear my own voice as I tried to sing along.

I have the most embarrassing picture in one of my photo albums of when Glen dug a hole in the sand for me to get into. All that's visible is my head and him lying next to me with two of his fingers held up behind my head. I have the goofiest smile on my face.

My mother always loved that picture for some reason.

One of my favourite pictures of Glen is from the same roll of film as my embarrassing picture. He wouldn't take his top off for over a week when we were on the beach so when he eventually did, his arms were tanned and his torso was white. He's wearing a smug look on his face that I wouldn't like on anybody else, but with him, it's endearing.

His smirk got me into trouble more than once when we were growing up. It would make me smile when I wasn't supposed to be smiling. Even if I was angry with him, all he had to do was smirk and I'd start smiling. Or when he added an extra expression. God, that was the worst. I would just burst out laughing at the most inappropriate moment.

The first time my mother caught me smoking, for instance. I wasn't literally smoking, it was one of those fake ones you could buy. Glen was the person who talked me into doing it. We were watching _Are You Afraid of The Dark _when we heard our mother's car pull up in the driveway and he threw the fake cigarette at me before telling me not to punk out.

Surprisingly, I kept the smile off my face long enough for my mother to drop her keys to the floor and clamp a hand over her mouth. I was passing it over to Glen when her feet marched over to us and ripped it out of my hands.

The colour immediately returned to her face as soon as she discovered it was fake, but she still told me that if she ever caught me smoking she would make me eat it. I never did smoke a real cigarette.

Glen was standing behind her during the length of her health speech, pulling the most hilarious face before smirking. It slayed me.

I was grounded for two days.

"Casper? Are you floating around?" Ashley yells from the backyard.

I jump up and open the kitchen window, leaning out of it some. She's sitting at the outside table with her iPod resting in front of her. "I don't float. What do you want?"

"Nothing. I just wanted to see if you were around."

I shrug my shoulders unnecessarily. "I'm always around."

"Will you make me a sandwich?" she asks.

"No." I laugh.

Ashley briefly turns her head to the window before moving it back, a smile fighting to break free. "I don't charge you rent, the least you could do is save my life when it's in jeopardy."

"If you're so hungry, you could stop doing absolutely nothing and fix yourself something to eat."

"Spencer," she drawls out my name. It's the first time I've heard her say it. I nearly fall out of the window. "Are you still there?" she carries on from my lack of response.

My body shifts backward in case I do actually fall. "I'm still here."

"So, do I have to make that sandwich myself?"

"You do," I inform her, not sounding terribly sorry.

"You're not a very friendly ghost, Casper."

On the grand scale of things, I could be worse. I don't shrink her laundry or replace the sugar with the salt. I stopped changing the channels purely to get a rise out of her, and I, per Ashley's request, stopped waking her up in the middle of the night by singing. I even apologised!

My eyes follow her until she rounds the corner of the house and I close the window, jumping down from the counter. I watch her walking inside the house and vow to lock her out when it's raining next. _Then _we'll see which version of myself she likes the best. I mean, it is my house after all.

I thought I'd broken my knee in this kitchen once. Glen had sprayed shoe polish on the floor and I crashed down into it at an impressive rate. It was hardly planned on my part that I had cross-country the next day that I didn't want to participate in. I'd hardly go as far as to shatter a bone for it. Sports are dangerous, that's my excuse for not having any natural talent in that area. I was always one of the unfortunate to get hit in the face with the basketball. Not a pleasant experience let me tell you. Or, when somebody threw the ball too hard and I caught it wrong, causing a nail to bend back.

"Do you want a sandwich, or um, don't you eat?" Ashley asks me.

I smile over at her. "I don't eat food, but you can make me one if you want. I'll just look at it."

"Whatever. Pass me the bread?" she requests.

I catch the smile she's so desperately trying to hide before I pick up the bread and hold it up in the air behind her.

"I can't make sandwiches without bread, Casper."

I step closer to her turned back and encircle my arms around her body, making sure I never come into contact with her clothes as I pass the bread from one hand to the other. I stop when I get bored from lack of reaction, or a reaction I can't see from my position. "Here," I say gently.

Ashley drops the knife on the counter and I ask her if she's all right. She doesn't turn around. "Yeah. Butter fingers," she says in way of explanation before her throat clears.

I noticed her breathing has picked up. I think I must be scaring her. I hate scaring her, she's my first friend in a long time. "I'm sorry I keep scaring you."

"You didn't scare me."

She's just trying to make me feel better. Who wouldn't be frightened if a ghost was knowingly haunting the house they were living in? Who in this town _wouldn't _be frightened if they knew Spencer Carlin was standing behind them?

* * *

With the lunch having been consumeda whileago, Ashley has begun drumming her fingers on her legs. It's making me antsy. "Stop it."

"Sorry," she replies, not ceasing her movements.

"Is everything okay?" I ask slowly, having noticed her shift in mood since the incident in the kitchen.

"Yeah, it's great," she answers quickly.

"Okay then." Alive, I don't think I ever had an annoying nervous habit. I just used to play with my rings a lot, twisting them around my fingers. The drumming has gotten louder. "Knock it off."

"Sorry," spills from between her lips, her movements halting.

"Are you sure everything is okay? You look like something is bothering you."

"We've been hanging out for a couple of weeks, Casper. It takes longer than that to get to know someone."

My brows instinctively draw closer together, immediately on thedefensive. "Does it?"

"Yes."

Not when you spend almost every minute with each other, it doesn't. Not with people in our situation. "What's wrong?" I ask her softly.

"Nothing!" she explodes suddenly. "God, nothing is wrong."

"Ashley," I try.

She stands up quickly. "You know, I really don't want to talk to you anymore. Leave."

"This is my house," I remind her, unsure of why she's acting like this all of a sudden.

Her voice is unkind when she says: "I don't care. Get out."

My eyes bore into the side of her head before I leave, slamming the door shut on the way out, hoping it makes her jump. That girl infuriates me.

Mr Banks is on the porch, sitting on the chair next to his wife. He watches her as she falls asleep and then brushes her hair back from her face. He always smiles when she jolts awake from it. He smiles when he sees me and I manage a faint smile back.

He died from a heart attack five years ago.

When I was little, Mr Banks always used to shout my name when I was walking past his house and I'd stop and he'd press the doorbell. It made the nicest melody. I loved it and he'd always remember for whenever I looked upset because it used to cheer me up. It's the first time in a long time that I've seen him at this time of the day and without his bicycle.

There's a lump in my throat I haven't felt before. Why does Ashley have to be like that? I think about her until I sit down on the edge of the sidewalk where I first saw her parents' car. I remember why I come here a lot now.

I died here.

The road gets busy. I know this all too well.

My eyes close as the gentle afternoon breeze caresses my skin. "Mom," I breathe out.

Knowing she can't hear me and won't respond causes me draw in a deep breath, and the lump stuck in my throat to become painful. I can only whisper "I miss you," as my throat constricts. I'd die again to be able to hug her just once. At this moment, I wish I wasn't here. I just want to be like any other deceased person. Why am I still here when only one livingperson can hear me?

I stay sitting there for hours and no matter how hard I try to hold them back, tears find their way from my eyes and I feel myself getting angry.

And I _hate_ getting angry.

The lights above me flicker rapidly and I take a minute to calm down, wiping my face free of tears with my fingers. I haven't looked at myself in a mirror since the last morning I woke up alive. I'm terrified I won't like what I see. I'm terrified I'll be unrecognisable. I was in the perfect position last time I looked into a mirror to see Ashley because only half of the bed was visible from that angle.

My eyes were forever luminous after I'd been crying. I wonder if they're still the same now.

The people who live in the house nearest to the intersection always play the best music. I usually fail to recognise the band, but I always enjoy the music. At the moment I don't know who is singing, but it's a band they listen to regularly. The singer's voice always makes me forget about everything.

Always makes my eyes close.

I think I need to go to the cemetery. But that can't be today, I can't do that alone. I can't do that in the state I'm in.

* * *

Almost five hours have passed since I left and I make my way back home, getting bored of being outside and having nothing to do. Mrs Banks is cooking dinner now and Mr Banks just put the carrots that must have been hidden onto the counter, causing her to shake her head when she sees them. He just smiles at her. It's sweet.

Mr and Mrs Davies aren't home but it's hardly a surprise. I've long learned that, unless with me, Ashley spends most of her day alone.

I open the front door and make sure to slam it shut, almost relishing in the fact that the force shook one of their photo frames on the wall.

Ashley startles me when she appears suddenly from the kitchen. "Where the hell have you been? I've been going crazy."

"Oh," I say after a moment, uninterested.

"Oh?" she questions. "I've been worried for hours and all you say is 'oh'?"

"You told me to leave." I bite down on my bottom lip before breaking out the big guns, "you were an ass."

I see her shake her head as if confused. She shouldn't be confused, I'm speaking plain English.

"I'm -" Ashley starts, speaking to the door. I'm on the couch.

"I don't care," I interrupt. "God, I really don't care." I'm being honest, with everything else going on I don't care for an apology right now.

"Have you been crying?" she asks with concern clearly evident in her tone.

"No," I lie as I pick up a cushion and hug it to my chest.

Ashley spies the action and joins me on the couch. "I know you well enough to know when you're lying, Spencer."

I nearly scoff. "You've known me for two weeks. I thought that 'wasn't enough time' to get to know someone."

"I was wrong, I'm sorry."

Shaking my head, I mumble: "It doesn't even matter anymore."

"Tell me why you've been crying," she presses, leaning closer to me.

The emotional pain from earlier resurfaces and my jaw clenches in an attempt to keep it at bay. The action proves to be a catalyst for my emotions and, before I can stop it, a sob escapes from my lips. "I'm dead."

I hear Ashley's intake of breath. "Please don't cry."

Tears blur my vision and eventually drop from my flooding eyes. "I'm so lonely."

I feel terrible and silly at the same time for admitting that out loud.

"You don't have to feel like that. I'm right here, okay?" she tells me softly. It's the most comforting I've ever heard her speak. I can barely speak to answer her, so she carries on, "Please stop crying, it doesn't suit you."

I force out a weak laugh through my tears and clear my painful throat. "You can't even see me."

"No, I can't. But I know you're beautiful, and beautiful people shouldn't cry." She continues on after a few minutes, my tears eventually stopping, "so, what do you say? You wipe away those tears for me and I'll let you watch whatever you want on TV."

I laugh pathetically, wiping away my tears. "I'll watch what I want anyway."

I get a genuine smile from Ashley. "There we go." She pauses for a few seconds. "Are you going to help me cook dinner?"

"No," I say, knowing full well that I will.

"You're lying," Ashley announces dramatically.

"I am," I concur, already getting up off the comfortable couch. She stands by the open kitchen door. "What are you doing?" I wonder aloud.

"Letting you go first."

I walk into the kitchen first and smile at Ashley who is still standing in the doorway. "I'm in here now."

She playfully rolls her eyes. "Can you make pancakes? I can never get them right, they suck."

I make really good pancakes. "I'm not making you pancakes for dinner."

"After dinner, then?" she asks.

"If your parents aren't in here, sure."

* * *

Later, when the stars shine brightly and the lights fade out, I lie on the makeshift bed Ashley made up for me on the floor and think about my family. I wonder where they are and if they're in a place where they even realise I'm missing. I wonder if they worry for me being alone in the world.

The last thing Ashley tells me before dropping asleep is that I'm not alone.


	10. Green Eyed Monster

**Sweet T - **Well, you'll find that out soon enough. I said in feedback with another story of mine (on a different site), but I would be the worst person to be involved with television. I want to spoil everything for everyone! Don't worry, though, I'll keep my lips sealed. ;) Glad you're enjoying it!

**Conscious - **Well I am now ^_^. Uh...yeah, you do that lol. I almost prefer that with readers. Like, when I read that they've figured it out way before I've posted it, it makes me sad that I wasn't more creative. Then I'm just flattered they'd take the time to think about it. Subtlety is the best, I agree. On the photograph front: just wait. I promise you're all going to know the answers to your questions before this ends.  
Haha. Oh, I wouldn't dare.

**McrFreak -** Glad to hear it. :D

**lorrene - **Read and find out. ;)

* * *

One of my favourite things to do when I was little was to go into the woods not far from our house. I never tired of hanging out in there with my friends, or on occasion, the older kids from the neighbourhood who used to be down there.

There's a part down there that you have to climb down. It makes sense to have a downside to something so great. The front of the woods was boring in comparison. Glen estimated it to be a fifty-foot drop from the top. It wasn't too difficult to climb down because part of it was on a slope. You just pray the roots you're white knuckling won't give way and think to yourself how brave you are for the rest of the day. Until you have to climb back up, that is.

I fell, on more than one occasion, and I got more than a couple of cuts and bruises. They faded. They always faded. Each time Erin and I snuck away from in front of the house where our mother's could see us, we'd hurry down to our favourite part of the woods for hours.

I still remember the tone of voice Erin's father used when he stood at the top of the high slope, yelling at the top of his voice for us to get home. Walking toward him while simultaneously sharing worried glances with Erin, I felt as though I was heading to my execution!

Looking back now, I agree that it was dangerous for children. Children who thought they were ready for anything. Children who were only eight years old.

My friend lost a sneaker down there once. His foot got stuck and it fell off when I was trying to get it free. We found it a few months later. Sadly, it was far past salvageable.

The cooler kids used to make swings from trees that were as tall as the houses. Or, at least, it seemed that way back then. I was dared to try it out once and I accepted the offer somewhat reluctantly. I was terrified, but I could have probably done with some character building.

I still remember the sensation in my stomach just before fell off. The impact on landing wasn't the worst pain, as I only fell on my ass, it was how I put my hands out to stop my sliding further down the slope. I dragged a bumble bee with me. It was just hanging off my thumb, dying as it was poisoning me.

I must have been in shock because Erin hurried to me and asked me if I was all right but I couldn't speak because, suddenly, my thumb was bumble-bee-free and her mouth was over it, sucking the poison out. That was the first time a girl's tongue was on my skin and I can say with all honesty that my eyes weren't wide because of the pain.

I still think that however nice it felt, she shouldn't have done it. It was probably germ-infested from the fall.

My mother never approved of us spending time in the woods, and I can't even tell you how many times I was grounded for ignoring her warnings of how dangerous it was to be in there. The only time I took her seriously was when she told me one of her classmates died in there. Apparently, she was walking home and took a shortcut through the woods when a man strangled her with his belt. I still don't know if it was something she said just to stop me from going down there or if she was being honest, but a few weeks after that I stopped going down there. If I did happen to be feeling daring, I would just stay at the front of the woods.

At the front I always remember a small single dead tree and I could never reach the first branch no matter how hard I tried. All my friends could reach it and pull themselves up, but I couldn't. Even if I jumped, it was still just out of my reach.

Two years ago, I took a walk through those woods and I couldn't believe how low the branch actually was. I could reach it without even trying.

* * *

For the past week Ashley has been nothing but nice. She even pulls a chair out for me at the dinner table and then, for the benefit of the only two other occupants of the house, "decides" to sit in the next seat; leaving enough room for me to squeeze in without her parents noticing a moving chair. They still work long hours and they didn't press her for more answers when they asked about her neck. Ashley told them it was some guy and I know that technically she wasn't lying, but they barely batted an eyelid.

"Spencer?"

I look up to the only person who knows my name. "Yeah?"

Ashley is standing by the TV holding two DVDs "The Sweetest Thing or White Chicks?"

I'm supposed to be able to pick? "I love both. You pick."

"No, no, you pick."

I roll my eyes but can't help smiling at her. She's such a gentlewoman. "White Chicks."

The thin air about five feet away from me gets an adorable smile. "Can you bring the popcorn in?"

I can, yes. "Sure," I answer. Sometimes, I wish I could eat food. I miss it. I miss all the different flavours and textures. I miss eating too much candy at Halloween, or too much chocolate at Christmas and feeling nauseous. I miss feeling hungry.

The popcorn doesn't take long and looks good as I pour it into a bowl. Walking back into the living room, I sit down on the couch and Ashley soon joins me when she spots the warm popcorn resting in thin air.

"We can watch Hairspray if you want," she offers.

"Confession," I begin.

"What's that?"

"I snuck into the movies to see that when it first came out."

Ashley chuckles, bringing the popcorn up to her lips. "Aww, you're bad."

I smile, solely for the reason she is. "Better believe it."

* * *

Throughout the entire movie I look over to Ashley and repeatedly have to suppress a smile at her concentration face. She looks cute.

"Spencer?" she asks, her eyes never leaving the screen.

"Hmm?"

"You're staring at me," she states. "Why?"

My lips purse together and I quickly look away. Busted! "No, I'm not."

Ashley smiles, turning her head in my general direction. "You were."

"I was just looking around the room. What, I can't even do that now?"

"I felt you looking at me, so don't even try to deny it."

The look of amusement in her eyes makes my face blush. "Your face is in this room. Naturally, I'm going to look at it when I look around." My teeth briefly press down onto my bottom lip. "It's big enough," I mumble.

The front door opens suddenly, interrupting Ashley's witty retort, and I hear her mother walking through the hall into the living room. She's probably on her lunch break. That theory is shot-to-hell when I notice the time. It's three in the afternoon. Nobody has their lunch break at three p.m.

She looks surprised. "Oh, hi Ashley. I didn't think you'd be in."

Ashley pauses the DVD. "Yeah, well, I walked into town and checked out 'Hollywood Video'. There's only so much to do around here, Mom."

Her mother, Christine, rolls her eyes. "There's plenty to do here, you just don't want to see it. There's nothing stopping you from going out again now. God knows what you do by yourself all day."

"I'm busy now."

Christine raises an eyebrow. "With what, exactly?"

"Hanging out with Spencer," Ashley answers aloofly.

My mouth drops open and I whisper for her to shut up. I get a smirk in response.

"Who is that?" her mother questions.

"She's Spencer."

Christine stands there, clearly waiting for an elaboration. "Who is _Spencer_?" she asks, with emphasis on my name.

"She's a friend," Ashley finally answers her properly. I don't fight to keep the smile from breaking free.

Her mother shakes her head as she looks around the room. "A friend who is nowhere to be seen? Honestly Ashley, you should have had the imaginary friend phase a long time ago. I don't have time for this."

That doesn't bother Ashley in the slightest. "Bye."

I hear Christine shuffling through the mail before she leaves again with her purse she left on the stairs this morning.

"Are you okay?" I ask her when I hear her mother's car pulling out of the driveway.

Her shoulders shrug half-heartedly. "That was us getting along."

"I'm sorry," I offer and after a minutes silence I ask, "do you want me to scare her tonight?"

The smile that tugs at the corner of her lips makes me feel better. "That would be so awesome."

"If you want, I'll wear a sheet, too."

Her smile grows bigger -- to the point where her nose crinkles. "You have the best idea's."

After a short, comfortable silence, I point to the TV, mostly out of habit. I know she can't see me. "So, do you want to finish the movie or should we -"

"I met a really cute guy today," Ashley cuts me off suddenly, looking and scratching at one of her knees.

"Oh?" I attempt to sound interested at her sudden outburst. I fail.

"Yeah. We're hanging out later."

I look around the room, avoiding looking at her for the moment. "That's cool, I guess. If you're into that."

"Do you want to help me get ready?" she asks.

"I can't."

"Why not?"

I roll a piece of popcorn between my fingers. "I'm washing my hair," I reply, flippancy leaking from my tone.

"Maybe you know him?"

"What's his name?" I ask, not really caring.

"Tom Evans."

I remember him. Tall, blond, and muscular, with a side of arrogance. "He goes to my school. He's not that nice," I answer. And while he is arrogant, I have to admit that he's not a complete monster. He has a smile that can get him out of any situation. It's usually the same smile that got him into it.

Ashley shrugs. "Seemed nice enough."

I draw my eyebrows together from an emotion I'm not sure I want to identify yet. "I guess you'd think so. Most people wait until they aren't in public before trying to strangle you."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" she asks, her eyes burning into the couch next to me.

"Whatever you want it to."

Ashley's jaw sets for a second. "I can't believe you just said that," she replies before getting up and storming out of the room.

I feel myself getting angry and I inwardly curse myself. I shouldn't have said that. "Ashley," I raise my voice hoping to make her come back. Walking to the bottom of the stairs, I hear the bedroom door slam shut. She better not damage my door. "Get down here." I continue with the response I don't receive. "Now."

I hear her scoff. "Whatever."

I make my way upstairs and harshly push the bedroom door open. Ashley is standing in jeans and a bra. "God! Do you know how to knock?" she yells, holding her arms in front of her chest.

I look away immediately, forgetting what I was going to say for a second. "I'm sorry."

"I don't care."

My brows crease. "So, last week when you were an ass I accepted your apology but you won't accept mine?"

"That was different and you know it."

"Yeah, you're right. You completely freaked out over nothing and then avoided it when I asked you about it the next day. I had a point, even if I wasn't that nice about it."

She avoids looking over to the door where she knows I'm standing. I walk over to her and bring my hand up to her face, feeling it hurt more than before as I try to touch her. I think she felt it too, because her head snapped back like she was avoiding a bullet. Her body stumbles back a mere second after. "Was that you?"

"No, that was Jeff," I lie.

Ashley pales noticeably. "What?"

"It was me."

Her head lowers and her breaths regulate soon after. Raising her head a little shyly while holding her hand up, Ashley moves forward a little. "Do it again."

"Are you sure?" I ask softly.

"Yeah." She nods her head. "It just felt weird. But, if I ask you to stop, will you?"

"Of course."

I lift my hand up and place my palm in front of hers, closing some of the distance between them before I feel discomfort, and I think Ashley does, too. Her face is almost contorted in what appears to be pain.

"Are you okay?" I ask hastily, withdrawing my hand. I'd never forgive myself if I hurt her.

"It feels weird. I mean, I can't see you but I can hear you, and suddenly I can almost feel you…it's just a little -"

"Surreal; I know," I finish her sentence, moving my hand back toward hers.

The pins-and-needles sensation in my hand turns into steak knives going all the way up my arm, causing me to pull away sharply, my arm held to my chest protectively.

"Are you okay, did I hurt you?" Ashley asks quickly after hearing my gasp and small groan of discomfort before stepping closer to where I was previously standing.

"I'm fine," I choke out.

"Liar."

The pain is subsiding with each flex of my fingers. "It's going away now," I reply and suddenly notice Ashley standing three feet away without a top on and her arms held by her side. I allow my eyes travel from her neck, to her chest, and down to her taut stomach until I realise I'm checking her out. My throat clears as I look away.

"Why can't you touch me properly?" she asks softly. "You can touch everything else, right?"

"Yeah," I confirm. "I don't know why it's different with you." I chance a look at her face, my eyes accidentally scanning over her breasts on their way up. She looks confused. She's frowning. "What's wrong?" I ask.

"I don't even know what you look like and I…" she trails off.

"And what?" I prod after some silence.

"Nothing," Ashley responds, avoiding my question. "I should start getting ready, Tom will be here in a couple of hours."

Tom has a gay brother and I'm hoping just this once, it can be contagious. "Yeah, I have errands to run so I'll leave you to it." I walk toward the door. "What time are you leaving?" I turn around to ask.

"I told him to pick me up at five."

That's early for a date. What's wrong with seven-thirty or eight? "That's early," I comment.

She nods in agreement. "I know. He has plans to do something later."

I frown at her reply. "With you?"

"No. With a friend, or something."

I turn around to face her. "And you're still going?" I ask incredulously.

"Yeah," Ashley replies somewhat muffled as she pulls on a different top.

I don't press her on the topic. It probably isn't my place to. "I'll see you later, Ashley."

It's getting dark much earlier in the evening now, and much colder. I don't feel it, but I see people's breath leaving their lips in a cloud, I see people wearing scarves and gloves with their thick coats on, windows frosting up somewhat over night, the earth sparkling in the early morning sunlight.

It won't be long before the road I'm sitting by gets busy. You would think I'd hate cars, being that I died in one, but I don't. I saw the newspaper a couple of days after the accident. I saw my family's obituary's, including my own.

I've had almost a year to come to terms with it and it makes me feel closer to them when I sit here. I don't know if that's morbid, or not. I just know I don't care. I know it won't be long before I see them again. It can't be.

I'd never seen so many people at church before until it was the funeral. I'd never seen so many flowers. I'd never seen so many people looking solemn.

I didn't go in. I couldn't. I watched as people arrived on the parking lot, lots of them had to park on and down the street. I left as soon as I saw the bumpers for the formal cars driving around the corner. I walked off in the opposite direction as fast as I could, running soon after.

If it were under different circumstances I would have passed out from lack of oxygen as I cried. I haven't cried like that since, and I doubt I ever will.

* * *

As soon as I got back to the house -- just before six, to make sure Ashley had left -- I went about cleaning up the mess we had left in the living room earlier. She can be messy and I like things to be organised. It doesn't bother me how she is, it gives me something to do. I'm more than surprised when I see her walk through the door five minutes later at six-thirty. She sits next to me on the couch, something that happens frequently whether she notices or not. I don't make a sound for at least half a minute.

"Bad date?" I question, trying to feel bad when Ashley jumped, but how she's holding a hand to her chest is making me smile.

"God!"

"Sorry," I offer sheepishly.

After she recovers, Ashley's eyes roll before she reaches down to undo the zipper to her boots. She sighs in pleasure when her feet are free and wiggles her toes quickly.

"Why are you home so early?" I ask.

I get a shrug as an initial response. "I didn't want to miss you."

She has my undivided attention. "What?"

"Scaring my mom, you know?" she quickly rectifies.

"Yeah." I feel embarrassed. "Of course."

"Where did you go? I wanted to say bye before I left," she says softly.

I avoid that question and shrug. "Just around."

Her feet come up to rest underneath her on the comfortable couch, "Do you want to finish the movie?"

I throw her the remote as my response.


	11. The Face of an Angel

**dangerflowers - **I'm very glad you think so. :)

**Sweet T - **Thank you :). Nope, you didn't read that wrong. I'll shed a lot more light on that situation in a couple of chapters.

**SpashLuva - **I didn't think anyone would notice that tiny scene add-in :P. Honestly, even though (so far) I've added, like, 9,000 words (though, that's for the entire MS, not just the chapters posted thus far), nobody is going to notice unless they read it religiously. I only notice because I've edited this thing more times than I can count in the past year and pretty much know it by heart. With each chapter I post a day, I always add something, but whether or not it's a scene depends on how I think everything flows. I'm pretty sure there are no additional scenes in this chapter, but keep an eye out, I'm sure there will be plenty more for you to catch. ;)

**Conscious - **Alien hybrid? Haha. Yeah, that's about right. Fear not, I have no plans for green, big-headed babies. At least not in this fic ;). Thaaank you. I'd respond to the touchy thing, but ANYTHING I say will give things away that I'd rather the reader read from the chapter than me. Aw, that sucks. It's always difficult with the "last" anything. Can't you play in college, or something? And you're not graduating yet, are you? I mean, I'm British so I barely know anything about the American educational system, but I thought it was June for Grads. I do hope you've been playing inside, though, 'cause it's snowing here (Fuck yeah!) and I dunno, I think of all the young high-schoolers outside freezing their ass off. With icicles hanging off their nose and the ball stuck to their hands.  
Oh, come on, I throw you a bone every single day lol.   
Without you leaving feedback, my life would be nothing but a black cloud.

**Pendulum666 - **Thank you very much. Honestly, this fic was originally TOTALLY different. I got tired of writing this other really fluffy SA fic and needed a change, something a little more angsty. It was going to be Ashley moving to Ohio and Spencer being her neighbour, etc, but as I was listening to a song by TY (while in a foul mood) I wanted one of them to be dead. Which just sounds _lovely. _

**idrinktogetdrunk -** Glad you're liking this. While I'm somewhat interested in ghosts, I have to admit they scare the crap out of me. Not that I'm difficult to freak out...

When I was thirteen, half of my class was off school with the flu. I used to think that they should just suck it up and get to school because, really, six hours wouldn't kill you. I'd never had the flu before. Two days later when I woke up with it, I fast changed my opinion. As a result, I'd missed a week of school and, in all honesty, I knew I was well enough to return back, but I liked the attention my father gave me. He even took time off work to take care of me. On the Monday morning it was decided for me that I had to go back to school.

When my father crept into my room to wake me, I told him my head hurt and thought we best stay on the safe side by letting me sleep it off. He smiled and told me to forget about it.

My heels hit the stairs harder than necessary on my way down, dressed and reluctant to attend the prison-like building. It wasn't until we drove in the opposite direction to school that he told me we were going Christmas shopping instead, but I had to promise not to tell my mom and also had to go to school the next day. No buts.

Having the flu for a week made it worth it.

We saw five different Santa's in town that day and one of them couldn't have weighed more than one hundred and thirty pounds.

During the day, I bought some fake snow and sprayed some of it on the corner of the kitchen window as a tester. It didn't say on the can that it would take three months to disappear.

* * *

It isn't going to be too long before Christmas rolls around once more. I wonder what Ashley is doing. Part of me hopes she isn't leaving for the holiday's.

"Why are we here?"

I look to Ashley walking next to me, her teeth chattering from the bitter cold. "You'll see," is all I say in response. We're on our way to a river. I like sitting on the bridge above it when the current is moving in the opposite direction. It's nice in the winter, but it's beautiful in the summer.

"You're vague, you know that?"

"I do," I reply, casting her an amused sideways glance. The trees surrounding us don't make me feel claustrophobic and I'd never say it out loud, but Ashley looks adorable wearing that hat. "You're walking too slow, hurry up," I tell her, only half joking.

She smirks. "You're lucky I can't see you or I'd shoulder check you, or something."

"My dead body is shaking."

The smile attached to her lips falls and a tension suddenly looms over us.

"Take the next left," I say quietly.

I walk behind her, allowing her to see the view first. I've seen it countless times before. I don't have to look at it to know how, at the side of river, there's a fallen dead tree that is almost daring you to walk across it to reach the other side. I don't need to look at the trees to remember how they look in full bloom. I don't need to look at the water to know that, in this winter weather, it appears dark. I don't need to look to know that it's still beautiful.

The awestruck expression on Ashley's face is perhaps more beautiful than I could ever find a scenic view. I would never change my positive opinion based on another's, but I wanted Ashley to like it here. Having grown up here, it means a lot to me. Even if it doesn't to other people.

"Wow," leaves her awed lips.

"Yeah," I concur, moving around her to sit down. "Sit down."

She looks around quizzically. "Where are you? I don't want to sit on you, or anything."

"You won't."

She breathes out a "'kay" and sits down next to me, her gloved fingers resting on the slightly splintered wood in front of her. Her legs dangle over the edge, swinging lightly.

Sitting in a comfortable silence, I watch almost intently as she swings her legs back and forth, looking down to the water. "Ashley?"

It's a while before I hear: "What?"

"Why don't you ask me questions?"

"Because I don't want to," she replies quietly, still looking into the water.

I don't take her response negatively, I'm just confused by it. "If I were you, I'd be asking so many, and a lot sooner than now. I mean, it's been a while and I just thought…" I trail off. She's uncomfortable with this conversation, it doesn't take a genius to figure that out. She shivers when the wind picks up. I try to ignore her cute pink nose.

"Are you cold?" she asks me tentatively. "Because I have five layers on. So, if you want my coat, just say so."

"I'm not cold," I reply softly. This winter weather doesn't even touch me.

"If you change your mind…" she leaves the comment hanging.

* * *

When we got home yesterday, Ashley had a voicemail on her cell phone. It was from Tom who she went out with last week; they're going out again tonight. I'm clearly thrilled. He's picking her up at eight tonight. The only upside is that it's a better time and I get to spend the day pretending I'm the one keeping Ashley company, when really it's the other way around.

I won't pretend that our conversation from yesterday hasn't been plaguing my thoughts ever since we got home from our walk.

Ashley went downstairs for breakfast five minutes ago. I just finished making her bed for her and am on my way downstairs to the kitchen. I wonder if she wants some coffee. "Do you want some coffee?" I ask when I reach the kitchen doorway. Her hand covers her full mouth as she chokes on her cereal. "I'm sorry," I say before she's even finished.

She swallows a small mouthful and coughs lightly. "What have I told you about sneaking up on me?!"

I'm sheepish. "I said sorry."

"God," she mutters.

"I made your bed for you," I say as a peace offering, sitting down at the table.

She's sceptical. "You didn't."

I lean my body back into the sturdy chair. "Go and check. I'll sit here and wait for your apology."

A smile dances in her eyes. "If I got out of this seat you would just float upstairs and quickly make it. You're sneaky like that."

The corners of my mouth twitch upward. "I don't float. How many times have I told you that?"

"Yeah, yeah," she dismisses good-naturedly.

I reach across the table to flick through the newspaper to see what's on the TV tonight. I don't have anything better to do.

"I would actually like some coffee," Ashley tells me before filling her mouth with Cheerios.

"You know where it is," I mumble.

I see her smile and shake her head as she gets up to make the coffee herself. I take this opportunity to be serious. Turning around in my seat, I ask: "When are you going to ask me, Ashley?"

She doesn't turn around. "Ask you what?"

"You know what."

Ashley's voice is unusually quiet when she replies: "I don't want to know. I told you that."

"Why don't you want to know? I don't understand."

"Because."

"Because, why?" I ask, standing up and moving next to her.

"Because when I do, this becomes real." She looks down to the coffee and closes her eyes, her head shaking briefly. "I don't want this anymore. I'm going to get dressed," she says before leaving the room.

* * *

Ashley has barely uttered a single word since breakfast, but she knows I'm still with her. I made sure of it. My sighs are fairly loud. "Stay in tonight," I speak for the first time in almost two hours.

"I have a date tonight, you know that."

"I don't care. We need to talk, Ashley."

Her expression hardens. "_Talk_? All we ever do is talk. I don't know if you're aware of that," she spits out.

I frown. "It hadn't escaped my notice."

"Then stop talking and _do _something."

Easier said than done. She doesn't know how much I would love that. She doesn't know how much I think of doing anything _but _talking with her. "Do something like what?" I ask.

"I don't know! God, just…_something_. Something to remind me you're here."

"Ash-" I begin.

"Just forget it," she interrupts and turns to leave the room.

I stand up quickly and smack her over the head with a magazine. "I'm here! If you need me to hit you with something every day, then tell me. You don't talk to me. I don't read minds, Ashley. You have to talk to me."

Her hand reaches to the back of her head and rubs the offended spot. "That hurt, Spencer."

"Good." I carry on at her silence, "stay in tonight," I repeat, ignoring how vulnerable I sound.

Ashley still doesn't turn to face me. Instead, keeps her back toward me. "I can't."

"Please."

"I can't, Spencer. Please don't ask me again."

That hurts me more than it should and I have to leave the house before I make the light bulbs shatter. I'm not lying to Ashley whenever I say that I'm not cold. I can feel the soft breeze in the spring and I can feel the chill of the winter, but it's a different sensation to when I was breathing through necessity. They don't bother me.

As soon as the front door slammed shut, I heard it open again. Ashley was shouting me to come back inside. I bet the neighbours will have a field-day at that if any of them saw her. And for the first time, I was glad I was nothing but thin air to her eyes. I couldn't be around her. I needed a break.

 

* * *

I felt more than a little silly sitting by the side of the road crying, but after a while, I just didn't care. The street light above me has flickered off and on more times than I can count as a result of my raw emotions. I saw people looking and frowning, wondering why the other streetlights weren't acting up.

My eyes go wide when I see Ashley walking up the street, her eyes scanning around but never landing on me. I wonder if she's searching for me, or if she's just taking a walk to clear her head. My hands wipe away the moisture on my face and I draw my legs closer to my chest to rest my head on my knees and watch as Ashley gets closer. I like watching her when she's candid, except now she looks miserable and it doesn't make me feel better. It actually makes me feel worse.

Suddenly, she stops walking and looks across to my side of the street. Her eyes are confused until they land on me. She looks right at me.

I can't move. I don't know what to do. All I can do is watch her cross the street and sit next to me. After a second, a barely-there frown appears as she looks into my eyes. "Do I know you?"

I hope my eyes aren't popping out. They certainly feel as though they are. I can't speak, I just point a finger at myself.

A small smile is on her lips. "Yeah, you. I'm sorry, I just feel like you're…" she trails off, looking more perplexed than before

I stumble as I try to stand up and Ashley follows my lead, minus the clumsiness. My tongue attempts to form words, but they fail me. I'm too busy nearly dying twice from the shock that she's looking at me; talking to me; _seeing _me.

Realisation dawns on her face and her mouth drops open. With her mouth and my eyes, we're quite the pair. "Oh my god," she's quick to say.

All I can do is nod my head in agreement while I gaze at her, loving how she isn't taking her eyes off me. She hasn't blinked. "Say something," she practically demands.

I put my hands in my pockets. "Hey."

Her eyes look like they might fall out now. "Oh my god."

"You said that, already." I smile.

Her eyes scan over my face quickly before returning to my own. "You're, uh…." Her head shakes in what I assume to be bewilderment.

"Yeah," I reply, not having a clue what she was about to say. I'm just glad I can speak.

"I-I mean you're…oh my god," she finishes off.

I smile at her repetition of that phrase. "Not quite."

"Why can I see you now?" she questions.

"I don't know," I answer honestly. I should have thought of this place sooner. People say they see me here sometimes. I should have connected the dots with Ashley. Her fast breathing is noticeable and I look down to my shoes.

"No, don't. Look at me." I hear Ashley say, almost desperately.

I oblige to her request, meeting her eyes that are full. "Don't cry," I say quietly.

"Oh my god," she whispers again. She looks like she might just faint.

"Do you want to go back?"

"I don't know. What if we move and I can't see you again?"

"We'll walk slow. As soon as anything changes, we'll stop. Okay?" I ask gently.

I would like to talk back at the house because if anybody looks out of their window they will see Ashley talking to herself. I almost think of repeating the question when she nods slowly, never looking away. She doesn't move back when I take a step toward her. "Come on." I nod in the opposite direction. "Let's go home."

I don't laugh when she nearly walks into a streetlight on the way home. She barely looks away from me.

I take that as a good sign.


	12. Dead or Alive

**Conscious - **No, not at all. I always respect another's opinion, even if it differs from my own. Things would be pretty damn dull if everyone agreed. Ah, okay. I did think it was June. Ha, good to hear. Did you actually have any snow yesterday? If you didn't, well...We had quite a bit, and more is apparently on the way ^_^. Aww, well same here, _kid. _:P  
You read this at school? I would have loved to read (or write, because I don't read many) fics during school hours.

Way back when BtVS was on air, I was in my IT class and was quickly checking the promo pics for the latest episode. It was a W/K kissing shot for 7x16 and as my teacher was walking around, I clicked the window closed. It didn't close. Typical. It froze and I pressed so many random keys and buttons trying to get the image off the screen for when he came around, that I made the screen turn blue. At least he didn't see it, that's the main thing.

**jco32 -** Your favourite? Aw, thank you so much :D. Hope you continue to enjoy.

**lulubirdy -** Thank you. I'm glad you decided to review sooner. And trust me when I say I don't mind redundant ;).

**fancyatic -** Thank you :). Yeah, last year it had a few people guessing, too. I hope you'll like the outcome, anyway.

**burtonuk -** You signed up just for me? Aw! Thank you. You can actually review anonymously, though...I think. I rarely use this thing so I'm not positive. Is today soon enough for you? ;)

**dangerflowers -** Very glad to hear it :).

**SpashLuva -** Ha, yeah, I definitely know what you mean. Organised messes are perfect. I hate when I put something down where I know I'll remember it, and then someone comes along and "cleans up". Things get lost forever. I do wonder where some things go, though. It's like every house has some kind of black hole with lost letters, pens, earrings, etc. They just disappear sometimes. It's weird. You noticed everything! I'm so glad. Just because you mentioned it, last night when I was editing tomorrow's chapter, I added a scene in there for you. We'll see if you catch it ;). Thanks for your feedback.

**AbsoluteGarbage -** Thank you! Read and you'll find out ;)

**NDFightingIrishFan -** Are you on the forum? Your username is familiar. Anyway, thank you very much! I'm glad you think so.

**Sweet T -** Come on, I had to leave a cliffhanger at some point! :P At least I'm not being cruel by leaving you hanging for days and days. Aw, was it? That's sweet, thank you.

**wannabebo352 -** Thank you. Reeead and find out ;)

* * *

I've never known somebody who couldn't ever take their eyes off me before. I'm not stupid, I've know been checked out before, but it's nothing compared to the way Ashley has been staring at me for the past ten minutes. She looks afraid that she'll blink and I'll be gone.

I don't mind her looking at me. In fact, if there was a place on this earth farthest from caring, I would be at that place. A few minutes ago she came to a sudden halt, afraid I was leaving again. I wasn't going anywhere; she was under a street light and I wasn't.

Ashley opens the front door and gestures for me to go first. I happily oblige and feel her eyes burning into me even with my back turned. I feel like I did on my first date: I have no idea what to do or say without sounding like an idiot. When I turn back around, Ashley is kicking the door shut with her foot, her eyes never straying from me.

"Are you okay?" I ask her.

I don't feel uncomfortable when her eyes scan my face. "Yeah," she whispers.

"Do you want to talk down here, or upstairs?"

"We should go upstairs, my parents will probably be here soon," she says.

I nod in agreement and watch Ashley pull her cell-phone from her pocket. It must have been on vibrate because she answers right away. "Hey." Her eyes are still on mine. "Uh huh." She smiles back when I smile at her. "I can't make it tonight." I hear a male voice —Tom— ask why the hell not. "I have somebody more important to see." Ashley doesn't say bye. She just closes her phone and slides it back into her pocket.

"You should head up. I'll be there in a second." I promise.

Her head shakes. "No, you go first. I'll walk behind you."

"If you can still see me now, then I think we're okay. You probably shouldn't worry."

"Please. Just in case."

I can't argue with that

When we enter the bedroom I stop before I get to the bed and turn around to Ashley who is approaching. I have her undivided attention. "Is it all right if I sit down?" I nod toward the bed.

"You don't have to ask."

I sit down on the edge of the bed that I made this morning and press my teeth into my full bottom lip. I'm still unsure. When I notice Ashley still standing at the door, unmoving, I give her a shy smile and avert my eyes around the room. I feel her smiling at me more than I see it.

"I don't bite, sit down," I say.

It's Ashley's turn to look unsure as she walks over to the bed. I move up to lean against the headboard and she sits near the bottom of the bed, her eyes watching my hand run through my hair. It reminds me a little of my first and only kiss with a boy, except for the fact that Ashley hasn't pounced on me yet. As soon as I sat down on his bed, he was all over me.

Come to think of it, this situation is nothing like my first kiss with a boy. "Is this a staring contest?" I ask nicely. "Because I don't really need to blink. I'd kick your ass."

Her head shakes negatively and if I'm not mistaken, she looks a little flustered. "I'm sorry. I just…this is a lot."

"I know, it's okay," I placate her. "I'm sorry you're missing your date with Terry," I say a second after, lying through my teeth.

"Tom," she corrects. "And, it's okay. If I had to choose who I'd rather be sitting here with, it definitely wouldn't be him," she finishes with a long unsteady breath.

I smile at her and don't say anything when her eyes linger on my lips, unsure whether it was just wishful thinking on my behalf.

"Spencer?"

"Hmm?"

"My heart is beating fast," she confesses.

I nod, understanding. "Mine would be too if, you know…"

I get a nod in response. "I mean, really fast. Like, I-just-ran-a-mile kind of fast."

"Are you okay?"

"I really, really am."

I chuckle because she's cute. "Well I'm really, really glad to hear that."

Ashley takes a deep breath and exhales slowly. "I can't believe you're here and that I can see you."

"Me either." I put a hand on my face self-consciously. "I don't look too terrible, right?"

She frowns briefly. "Uh, no. You don't look too terrible at all." Her tone suggested teasing at my mere suggestion.

"Really?" I ask, delighted.

"Definitely."

"That's good." I smile like an idiot and look down to my lap, quickly brushing some of my blond hair that keeps falling in front of my eyes away and behind my ear. "Do you want to ask me anything?"

"Are you okay?" she asks sounding like a little girl. "You don't hurt anywhere, do you?"

"I'm fine."

Ashley is looking at me intently. "You look normal," she says quietly. "I mean, you don't look…."

"Really?" I point to her paler than usual face. "Because you look like you've seen a ghost." I smile at her like that wasn't lame.

I get a small laugh from her, anyway. "Don't say things like that."

"Okay," I agree.

"It's strange," Ashley blurts out, sitting forward a little. "I had all these words planned out for if I ever saw you and now that I am, I've forgotten every one of them."

"It's okay," I reassure her. "I can't scare you anymore." I pout at the realisation. I love making her choke. I really am evil.

"You're scaring me right now."

"Why?"

She shrugs nonchalantly but I get the distinct impression she does know. I watch her look down to her hands for a second and I ask: "Do you want me to leave?"

Her head shoots up. "No," she states firmly. "No, I don't. Stay there."

"Are you sure? Because I don't mind." I start to get up, intending to leave her alone for an hour or two to allow her to get used to the idea of me _literally _being here.

Ashley leans toward me and raises her arm to block any further movement. "No." Her head shakes negatively. "I mean, yes, I'm sure. Don't move, okay? Just stay still."

I move back to my previous position and watch her watching me. "You don't have to be scared, you know," I say upon hearing her slow deep breaths.

"This is unbelievable."

"Understatement."

"Yeah," she agrees.

I throw a cushion at her after some silence. "Stop being quiet."

She plays with the corner of the cushion and remains serious. "Can I ask you something?"

"You can ask me anything you want."

"When did you know?"

I purse my lips out for a second. "Um, I think I knew when I had an unhealthy obsession with the pink power ranger. I'm a cliché like that." I smile.

I wasn't expecting Ashley to chuckle, but I happily join in. Her laugh is contagious. "No. I uh, I meant when did you know you were…you know."

"Oh." I shake my head and curse myself inwardly. "I um, I saw the newspaper," I say slowly. "And nobody would talk to me."

"It didn't," she begins.

"Didn't what?" I prod gently.

Ashley avoids my eyes. "It didn't hurt, did it?"

I don't remember much of the accident, but I do remember that it hurt. It hurt so much I couldn't even scream. I give Ashley the answer I'm positive she wants: "No, it didn't hurt." For the first time since out on the street, her eyes close and she swallows thickly. She knows I was lying. "It was only for a few seconds," I rush out, trying to make her feel better with the truth. I died almost on impact.

The truck slammed into my side of the car. I saw it a split-second before it hit. It was red. I remember the impact, how much my left arm and shoulder hurt, the sound of the glass shattering, how the metal sounded when our car overturned, and the sound of screeching tires. I remember we were just trying to get home.

"Don't," she starts, still keeping her eyes closed as her head shakes, "don't say anything else. I can't hear it yet."

I agree to her request silently.

Her eyes open again and a second later they're on my own. I almost wish they weren't. They're so sad. "You're the nicest person I've ever met."

"Even if I make you choke on cereal?"

"Even then," she clarifies. "I'm so sorry about earlier. I didn't mean to upset you and make you leave. I just have this habit of not thinking before I speak."

If Ashley hadn't of upset me and made me leave the house, then we wouldn't be sitting here looking at each other and I wouldn't feel as if I was alive for the first time in a year. "I should be thanking you. If you did, then we wouldn't be here."

"I guess," she murmurs, sounding pre-occupied with something else.

"Is everything -"

"I really want to touch you," she cuts me off as her body moves toward mine. "But, I don't want it to hurt you."

I'd rather try and have it hurt than not try at all. I move both of my hands forward and Ashley moves further up the bed, looking into my eyes for permission to bring her hands closer to mine, which I grant immediately.

"As soon as it hurts, tell me and I'll stop. I promise."

"Sure." I don't take my eyes away from our hands inching toward each other on the bed. I think I'd do anything to feel her hands on my skin. There isn't much space left between our skin anymore and I try not to let it show that it's hurting me.

Ashley is able to tell regardless of my act and her hands pulls back immediately. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I reply, though she will be able to tell by my voice that I'm frustrated.

"We'll find a way, okay? I mean, I never thought I'd be able to see you, but here I am, seeing what shade of blue your eyes are."

"Do you like it?" I ask, needing an ego boost.

She smiles endearingly. "I'm a big fan."

I scratch the back of my neck trying not to smile too much. "Good."

Ashley stretches and lets out a low sound which suggests she's uncomfortable, so I move over and pat the space next to me before pulling the pillow down to the mattress and lying down. She slides down beside me and mirrors my position of laying on my side before she blindly reaches behind her to put the bedside light on. It's getting dark and I think of the day spent with her. "You didn't have lunch. We should get you something for dinner."

"I'll get it later," she dismisses.

"Aren't you hungry? I'll make you pancakes if you want." I shift ever so slightly.

"No, don't move," Ashley says softly as her intense eyes penetrate my own. "I just want to look at you."

Ashley never did get dinner, but she didn't complain once. She looked content in memorising my face. We didn't talk much after that, except for me promising to be there when she woke up. I promised I would and she told me that "Dead or alive, you're beautiful."


	13. Domestic Bliss

**burtonuk -** Thank you. Luckily for you, there are plenty of those throughout this fic. Aw, you made _my _day with that.

**wannabebo352 -** Thanks, glad you thought so :).

**shala24 -** I love when people tell me their favourite parts, so thanks for that. I'm glad you liked it :).

**NDFightingIrishFan -** It's my fault for not being clearer, I meant are you registered on Spashley dot com. Aw, sorry about that. Hope you enjoy the update.

**jazziejazz94 -** I'm not a stalker, I promise lol, but are you on Spashley dot com, too? I keep recognising all these different usernames. Anyway, no problem about missing a chapter. As long as you're reading and at least liking. That's all I ask :). Ummm...I can't say anything without major spoilers, so just keep reading ;).

**SpashLuva -** Really, though, _where _does all that stuff go? It's insane. Haha, yes. Well, mine and just about every lesbian I know. Kimberly was just so cute. Aww, yeah, I know. I was sad when I found out. Did you also know Ashleigh Aston Moore aka"Chrissy" from Now and Then (with Thora Birch and Christina Ricci), died last year? I found out a week or so ago and couldn't believe it. You are! Anyone who pays that much attention to my writing is totally golden.

**AbsoluteGarbage -** :D Thank you. I'm so glad there are people on here who haven't read this before. I like seeing everyone's reactions. It's awesome.

**Conscious -** Oh, it's you again, is it? :P. Ha, yes, you give yourself a big pat on the back. Wasn't Buffy the shit? I was obsessed for years. And Smallville? Love it. I go through phases of being unhealthily fanatical over TV shows, too. Happened with Buffy, Grey's (earlier seasons), Desperate Housewives, Supernatural, SoN, Smallville, My So-Called Life, etc. It's fun, though.

Ha! It snowed again yesterday evening. _AND _during the night. Not to rub salt in the wound, or anything ^_^. Ah, who cares? Unhealthy habits involving fanfic are fun.  
I did, I did. It just seemed to fit. I mean, I could practically be your babysitter.

**STALKER -** Weird? No. A normal occurrence? Yes. Spaz...I think I like that. I'll alternate between calling you kid and a spaz. Or kid stalker spaz :) Yeah, I like that one better. Fits you like a glove. Seriously though, I'm glad some people are liking the no-touching aspect.  
Yes, yes it would. Will I update regardless? ... I guess so. Not just for you, or anything. We don't need your ego expanding. Enjoy, kid stalker spaz.

**Sweet T -** You definitely will see. Aw, well you're welcome. I'm going away next weekend so you lot may have to go without an update for, like, four days. It depends on whether or not I can steal an internet connection.

**shaws -** Thank you! Hope you like the next update.

* * *

I've been watching Ashley sleep for hours. It's the first time I can remember her facing toward me. I don't sleep, so I've gotten used to her subconscious habits. In between ten and fifteen minutes, she will roll over to my side of the bed and sleep on her stomach for roughly an hour. Then, she will turn the pillow over to the cold side, turning it to an angle and move on to her back with an arm around her head. She really does sleep in uncomfortable-looking positions.

She's been dreaming. I keep seeing her smile. I wonder what she's dreaming of.

One of the times my cousin Luke stayed over here, Glen decided we should all sleep downstairs because it would be easier to raid the fridge at midnight without waking our parents up. I was eleven years old and I never did make it until midnight because they were boring me at ten thirty. I fell asleep soon after. I woke up at one a.m. to the two of them laughing at me because I was sleeping with my arms folded over my chest like a vampire. It was one of those 'remember when' stories they liked to frequently bring up to embarrass me with.

It was a small couch, that's my excuse.

Ashley will be moving any minute, so I take one last look at her face before sitting up and moving off the bed. My makeshift bed on the floor by the window is still made up from yesterday. I usually fold it away in case one of her parents decide to walk in here and see an extra bed. I'm sure they would ask a few questions. I'm not breaking my promise to her, I'll still be in the room.

"Where are you going?" Ashley asks me with a low voice, suddenly awake.

I turn back around and whisper: "I'll just be over there. Go back to sleep."

Her eyes close again when I assume she knows I'm still visible to her, she mumbles out something that sounds like, "Come back."

"You move around a lot at this time of the night. I'll be on the floor. I won't leave."

Her response is pulling back the covers I was resting on top of.

"You won't sleep properly if you stay in the same position all night," I try to reason with her, not wanting her to ache in the morning.

Her arm stretches out to the space next to her and she pats it with her sleepy hand, her eyes stay closed.

"Ashley." I smile. She's stubborn even half-awake.

"I sleep better when you're with me," she confesses.

The statement obliterates my resolve and potential stubborn streak and carefully get back onto the bed. I can almost feel her body heat. It's nice. She throws the covers over me and moves away from my body a little, mindful not to have an incident like earlier, I assume. She's still facing me. "Why?" I have to ask.

"I feel safe when you're with me," she replies quietly, making me wonder if that statement was conscious.

With her eyes closed, she can't see how my smile threatens to split my face in half. "Go back to sleep. I'll be here in the morning."

"'night, Spence," she whispers, her breaths evening out seconds after.

"Sweet dreams."

* * *

Ashley is making lots of noise in the kitchen this morning. She's trying to cook pancakes for breakfast. I was asked to make them, but I said that she at least had to try first. Besides, I wanted to see if she could pull off wearing an apron. She can, in case you were wondering. I don't know how one person can make such a mess in making something as simple as pancakes. She spins around with the spatula in her hand, a smear of white flour going across the red material of her apron. "How come you don't have bed hair?"

I look to her messy tendrils and laugh.

"It's my only flaw, shut up," she replies with a smile before turning back around to tend to her uncooked pancakes.

This morning I'm really in the mood to see if _Tom and Jerry _is on and quietly make my way to the living room, but before I have a chance to pick up the remote, Ashley calls my name in alarm. I hurry back into the kitchen. "What's wrong?" I ask upon seeing her wider eyes, my eyes darting to her hands for blood or a burn. Neither are there.

"I…nothing." She sighs deeply. "God, you can't just leave a room without telling me anymore. I thought you'd gone poof."

I try not to smile at the last word. "I didn't go poof, Ashley."

"Yeah, well…" She waves the spatula around and eventually points it to the table. "Just sit down over there where I can see you."

"Okay," I say slowly, hiding my amusement.

A few minutes later she turns to me with a crestfallen expression covering her face. "Spencer, these pancakes don't look like pancakes."

My head is resting on my forearm as I close my eyes, remembering how my father taught me how to make pancakes when I was ten years old. I remember how each time I failed he'd just smile with his kind eyes and tell me to try again.

"Try again."

"I tried, it didn't work. Your turn."

Not long after, Ashley is devouring her mountain of pancakes. And when I say "devouring", I mean she barely takes a breath between bites. "You're going to choke if you carry on like that." I don't understand her muffled response. "What?" I laugh, amused nonetheless.

She rolls her eyes and swallows her mouthful. "I said, 'they're really good'."

"I know they are," I reply smugly.

"You want some?" she stabs a piece on to her fork and brings it up in the air, pushing it toward me.

"No, thank you."

Her eyes dance mischievously and the fork moves even closer. "Come on, open wide for me."

Laughter escapes me. "Ashley, that was dirty."

She suddenly looks like she's choking on her tongue. "Spence!"

I don't eat food, I've told her that before. "I made them for you, you have them."

Ashley shrugs and brings the fork to her lips, chewing cutely moments after. I smile when I see the blush coating her face.

"Stop staring at me," she demands, her blush deepening.

I shake my head and turn away from her. I'm still smiling.

* * *

Ashley is lying on the floor of the living room. I can see her perfectly from my laying-down position on the couch. Mostly because she's looking at me just as intently. Her phone bleeps, snapping her out of it before she reaches into her pocket for it, quickly flipping it open and makes a face of reluctance.

"Who is it?" I ask.

"Mommy dearest," she says as she sits up. "Come on, we have to go grocery shopping."

I raise my eyebrows. "Your mother said 'Take Spencer to the store with you'?"

"Uh huh." She kicks the couch lightly. "Come on, I'm not leaving you here. Get up."

I look up to her. "Why don't you go to school?"

Ashley meets my eyes. "Graduated," she says simply before kicking the couch again. "Up."

I'm shocked. "Wow, really? Already?"

She nods in confirmation. "Last year."

"Wow," I repeat.

Her tone is light when she says: "Yes, beauty and brains. Now, come on. Get up."

"Why do we have to go now? Later really works for me," I respond, stretching my arms back behind my head over the armrest of the couch.

She's beginning to look impatient and I'm enjoying it far more than anyone should. "Because it's going to get busier and busier the longer we leave it, and I really _hate _grocery shopping at this time of year," she replies with emphasis on hate.

I finally sit up. "You have rules to stick by, got it?"

"Rules for grocery shopping? What, like, no junk food?"

"No." My head shakes in the negative and I bring my hand up, uncurling my fingers as I count off each rule: "Like, no blatantly talking to the thin air next to you, no verbal questions, no smiling at me, no -"

She stops me there. "Do you want some paper to write those down?"

"I'm just saying. You'll spend Christmas in a psychiatric hospital if anybody sees you."

"But you could totally sneak in to see me, right?" she asks with her head cocked slightly to the side thoughtfully.

I think about that for a minute and unconsciously mirror her action. "Yeah, I could, but that isn't the point."

"Okay, okay. I'll be discreet," she assures.

"That doesn't make me feel better," I comment as I stand up and watch Ashley put on her thick coat.

She holds unwavering eye-contact for a few long moments. "What am I thinking?"

That's blatantly obvious. "You want me to shut up," I answer easily, walking toward the front door. "See, if you do that when we're at the store, you'll be fine."

* * *

"Do you want to get a taxi back?" I ask, ten minutes into our journey as I walk next to her.

"Sure," she answers casually, observing the houses we pass. Houses that are much nicer than the house I grew up in, but can still never compare. Those houses don't hold some of my fondest memories. Those houses don't have Ashley in them.

I look around to make sure nobody is walking behind. "So, you don't drive?" I ask.

"No, I do. I just don't have a car right now."

I furrow my brows. "How come?"

She shrugs indifferently. "My mom lost an important client at the firm and said we needed the money, so she sold it."

"That sucks," I comment.

"Yeah, I guess," she replies, sounding almost pre-occupied. "Are you sure you're not cold?"

"I'm sure."

As soon as we arrive at the busy grocery store, Ashley groans aloud at the mass of people and crying babies we can see and hear from the entrance to the store. "Come on, let's just get it over with. It's only going to get busier," I try to reason with her.

She looks severely displeased. "Can't you just go in there for me?"

"Shh!" I hiss, looking around at the lady giving Ashley a strange look. Ashley gives her a wide smile and the woman walks away shaking her head.

"Facial expressions; use them," I tell her.

Her eyes widen playfully and I laugh before pointing to a cart. The shopping isn't going to do itself, after all. Ashley juts out her lower lip.

I appear unaffected. "That's not going to work."

She trudges toward the carts and returns soon after, pushing it next to me. She rubs a hand over her mouth. "You want to sit inside the cart?"

"Ashley," I warn, though smiling inwardly.

She rubs her hand across her mouth again. "Nobody can see me like this."

"Yes, but they can hear you." I pause to look at her. "And you look ridiculous." I laugh at her freely.

"Walk then," she says lightly.

A small boy looks next to Ashley and frowns at where my legs are. "You look crazy talking to yourself," I sing-song.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, we round the corner to yet another aisle and Ashley sighs, rolling her shoulders after hauling the heavy cart around. "I'm bored," she states. Again. "And I forgot to see if we needed milk."

An elderly man reaching across our cart for a carton of milk stops and faces Ashley, briefly looking to my breasts before frowning. It's okay, I don't take it personally. "Who are you talking to?" he asks with a small chuckle.

Ashley swallows thickly as I walk forward and stand beside the old man, quickly turning to face him. "She's talking to me."

"Uh, me?" Ashley asks him, pointing a finger toward herself.

He opens his mouth to speak when Ashley's eyes meet my own and I tap my ear. She's not very experienced in covering up conversations with a ghostly friend. Who knew?

"Hang on," she says to the man hastily, putting their conversation on hold as she reaches a hand up to the hair covering her ear. "What's that, Spencer?" she asks, over-playing her act of being on the phone via bluetooth.

"You're not a very good actress," I say cheekily.

"Yeah, no, I agree. Your milk has definitely gone sour."

I turn around to smile. "Hurry up and say your goodbye's."

* * *

Thankfully, we made it through grocery shopping without Ashley being shipped off to an institute. Although, she did almost get taken downtown regarding an incident involving an old lady and lack of co-ordination. She hurried around the corner too fast and almost hit me with her cart. Ashley wasn't happy about it, and neither was security.

She flops down on to the chair in the living room. "I'm never going grocery shopping again."

I smile at her dramatic tone. "You are. Admit it, it was fun."

She nods looking towards the ceiling. "For somebody who didn't have to carry it all, I'm sure it was."

That makes me smile. Glen said that to me once when I'd fractured three fingers and couldn't help him because I was holding my purse in the other hand. "You're reminding me of Glen."

"Who's that?"

"My brother."

She sits up to look at me and wears a serious look on her face. "Oh. Is he, uh…?" she asks awkwardly. We haven't spoken about my family before but I don't take her to be the dim kind. She must know if they were alive I'd be with them instead of staying behind in a house by myself for months on end.

"Yeah," I respond and look away for a second, thinking of him. Thinking of his annoyingly-funny smirk. It almost makes me smile.

"I didn't know you had a brother," she says softly, bringing me out of my thoughts.

I nod. "Just the one. No sisters."

"What's your last name? God, I can't believe I haven't asked you yet."

I was wondering when she would get around to asking me that. "Carlin."

"Spencer Carlin, Spencer Carlin," Ashley repeats. "Cute name."

I don't know what else to say, so I just say: "Thanks."

Ashley smiles at me. "Put the groceries away, Spencer Carlin."

I tilt my head to the side. "Aww." I appear thoughtful. "No."

Her mouth drops open. "You won't even help me?"

* * *

After a few minutes of Ashley pleading and me declining, I put her out of her misery and helped her to put the groceries away. It was fun throwing marshmallows at her face. She looked cute when she flinched each time one hit her in the face. She sounded even cuter when she called me Spencer Carlin for the rest of the day.


	14. Harsh Realities

**Conscious -** I don't know about that. I mean, you'd probably hack me into little pieces. Gossip Girl is great. I usually only watch the Blair and Serena's scenes but they're so unbelievably gay for each other. Seriously. If I'm ever feeling suicidal though, I'll look you up and we can at least watch some decent episodes of Buffy before I meet my fate. I get to choose which ones we watch, though. Gingerbread is definitely on the list. "You will not speak to Bunny Summers again!", or the C/G scene. "One of these days you're going to wake up in a coma.", "Wake up in a - Oh, never mind. *struggles to his feet* We need to save Buffy from Hansel and Gretel." *Cordelia looks confused* "Now, let's be clear. The brain damage happened _before _I hit you." Haha, I love that scene.

Oh, please! I barely mentioned it in passing. Like right now, I could say that I think it's going to snow again tonight and rub that in your face. But, have I? No. :D  
Yes, you are. You're seventeen _and a half_(_!_), right?

**STALKER -** *shrugs* What can I say? It suits you. I like when Ashley asks questions, too. Ha, yeah. They really are doing everything backward, aren't they? Oh, I forgot to say before: Have fun trick or treating with your Mom tonight.

**dangerflowers -** :D Thanks.

**SuperGirl06 -** Haha, I'll take it to the grave. Thank you! Regarding the storyline, it was the outcome of a really bad day, a sad song, and I needed an outlet. It just evolved and I never expected it to be taken so well by people (a different version of this is posted elsewhere). You'll have to stop working so much and read to find out ;). Everything will come out eventually, we just have to get a few more chapters in. Thanks for your feedback.

**burtonuk -** Thanks, I'm glad you think so. :)

**wannbebo352 -** Because this is written in Spencer's POV, you won't get to read Ashley's thoughts, but again, just wait a couple of chapters and you might read about it. :)

**jazziejazz94 -** Lol, yeah I saw you on the forum last night. Well, I'm very glad to hear it. I certainly keep sounding like one :P. I think **Conscious'** stalker tendencies are contagious ;). I think I slip them in every chapter, yes.

**AbsoluteGarbage -** Thank you :D.

**SpashLuva -** You're sweet. Thank you. Glad you caught (and liked!) the scene add-in.

**Sweet T -** Glad you thought so :]

**xxMaNdYxx -** Thanks!

**NDFightingIrishFan -** No, no, it's cool. And ah okay. I thought I recognised you! Thank you. Out of all the Ashley's I've written, BoS Ashley is one of my favourites, so I'm glad others like her, too.

**shaws -** And yet more lovely feedback. Thank you. Hope you like the next update.

* * *

The last sleepover I went to was when I was twelve. I was one of the five girls invited to Erin's for the night to get high on candy and soda. It was one of those _innocent _sleepovers. One of the movies I remember watching from that night frightened one of the other girls, Sam, to the point where she asked to sleep with the lights on. She was the kind of girl who didn't sound genuinely afraid, more like she just wanted some attention.

I had my sleeping bag next to Erin and next to her was Georgina who was, at times, a little harsh, but I also wanted to be like her. She always lived and acted how she wanted, regardless of people's negative opinion of her, and still does to this day as far as I can tell whenever I see her around.

Around eleven thirty when the lights went out and Erin and I got those annoying giggle-fits that kids sometimes get, George told us to shut up and don't fall asleep. She was going to do something.

Five minutes or more passed until she quietly slipped out of her sleeping bag and tiptoed across the room to Sam, causing Erin and I to sit up for a better view. From the moonlight you could see that Sam's eyes were closed. Georgina moved behind her head and leaned over her, getting close to her face. She slapped her forehead and said "boo" in the deepest voice I've ever heard from a girl.

I don't know what was louder: my laughter or Sam's scream. She was the first to leave the next morning and I don't think she slept the entire night. I, on the other hand, slept like a baby. It must have been a sugar coma.

* * *

My bed on the floor has been folded away and put back into the closet. Ashley's reasoning for this was that nobody should sleep on the floor by a window in December. I protested, of course, and it fell on deaf ears. I like sleeping by Ashley, I have to admit. She smells good, doesn't snore, and makes minimal mouth smacking noises. Plus, there's the added bonus of her smiling at me every time she wakes up for a second to turn over. I don't think she realises she does it. I don't tell her.

I don't tell her how it makes me feel when she looks at me. I don't tell her how she makes me feel.

I'm not stupid. I know that this is dangerous. I know that the chance of anything else developing is out of the question, but I can't help it; you don't see how Ashley looks at me or how my name sounds leaving her lips.

For the past five days Ashley has looked tired and I know it's because of me. She insists on looking at every part of my face before she falls asleep, in case it's the last time she sees it. A couple of nights ago she was still awake at three in the morning, just looking at me. Making me feel beautiful without speaking a word. When she can't hold her eyes open any longer she surrenders to sleep only to wake early the next morning.

The bed covers are only covering her legs, leaving her torso visible instead of hidden under the blankets. The material of her white beater she wore to bed has also risen up, giving me a perfect view to her taut stomach.

It's becoming a habit for Ashley to rest her arm close to my pillow at some point during the night. I know that it's subconscious and I would never mention it to her, but it hurts. Not unbearably so, but the sensation isn't pleasant. Yesterday she moved her hand onto my pillow and the fact that I was facing her brought it close to my face. I moved back a safe distance and had to wait until she apparently had an itch on her stomach for her to move her hand.

I move off the bed and cover her up properly because it looks cold outside. It looks so cold that I bet if my heart was beating and I went outside it would feel like I was breathing fire. I'm careful to avoid any of her skin when my fingers brush back a lock of hair covering part of Ashley's face. I leave when she tries to lean into my hand.

My exit is through the back door and I walk out into the dark street where the car windows are frosted over. I feel bad for all the people who have to get up before six a.m. to get ready for their day. A year ago there was never anything worse than being exhausted and cold at the same time. A year later there is nothing worse than not being able to feel either.

All the trees look ugly and bare. Everything looks dead and harsh. I always thought there was a very fine line in the winter, of places looking pretty, or looking dead and ugly. Today is one of the bad days.

It was a bad day on the day I tried out my new roller-skates for the first time. My butt hit the floor as soon as I left the safety-net of the front lawn. I got six bruises that day, but by nightfall I could skate for at least five seconds before falling over. It was progress. I didn't have very good balance.

It's always eerily quiet here this time of the night when I come here. The occasional car drives past but it's a rare occurrence and doesn't bother me. I sit exactly where I always sit, right where Ashley saw me for the first time. The place I saw her for the first time.

Briefly, I wonder what to get her for Christmas and if I could even buy anything. I don't exactly carry any money around with me and I would never consider stealing intentionally. It may have worked once in the past when I unintentionally stole candy, but somehow I doubt they would overlook a teenager who knows right from wrong, stealing from a store.

Nobody would catch me red-handed and, at most, I'd be a dark shadow on a security camera, but I have a sneaky suspicion my parents would know somehow. And they'd be disappointed with me. Not angry, not something I could sigh in relief with as soon as I left their sight, but something that would loom over me for days, perhaps even weeks. It all depends on the look on their face.

And I don't need to be standing in front of them to know what kind of expression they'd both be wearing. No, I'd just have to think of something else for Ashley.

The wind has picked up slightly but I still hear the distinct sound of fast-approaching footsteps. Turning in the direction the sound is coming from, I see Ashley running toward me. I can't tell if she's pissed off, or if she's just worried. It's perhaps both. When she reaches me she's a little out of breath. It must be cold because I can see her breath leave her lips in a cloud that expands. "Are you okay?" are the first words out of her mouth, her warm breath in the freezing air making it look like she's smoking.

"Yeah," I bend the truth some. I'm not sure I'm ready for her tonight.

"Why did you leave? I woke up and I couldn't see you, but you weren't answering me and I knew you'd be here."

"Ashley." I shake my head and look to the side.

"Let's go home. If you were bored you should have woken me up, or something."

"Stop," I say as calmly as I can muster.

She begins to unbutton her black coat. "It's freezing out here, Spencer. Take this," she says, looking down to the buttons.

"What do you want from me?" I finally ask, voicing the thoughts I've had for a while now.

Ashley's face reflects confusion. "What?" she asks as her coat is being pulled away from her body.

Looking at the action, I get frustrated. Even more-so than before, and I'm certain it's going to be carried through in my tone. "I don't need that coat, Ashley."

Her face darkens. "God, why won't you ever take it?" She forcefully pushes it toward me. "I'm just trying to keep you warm!"

"Because I'm dead!" I yell, finally. "I'm dead and you don't have to try and warm me up because it's never going to happen!"

My harsh words are regretted the moment I see her crying. She looks at me with hurt eyes before turning around and walking away from me, her hands clenched into fists by her side.

"Wait." I hurry after her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to say it like that."

Ashley stops and I move in front of her to look her in the eyes. We don't speak immediately, her eyes are all over my face. "What do you want from me?" She echoes the question I asked her. "Why did you start talking to me?"

"I was lonely and I needed somebody. You were the only person who would listen."

She practically sneers. "Isn't that nice?"

"What?" I ask.

"Being used by a ghost."

"I'm not using you, Ashley. I love spending time with you, you know that," I say sincerely. This time I repeat the question she earlier avoided: "What do you want from me?"

Her jaw clenches and she looks away from me, her head shaking lightly.

I sigh softly. "All we can do is talk, Ashley. Sure, you can see me now." I shrug gently. "But nobody else can. You can't keep doing this. _We _can't keep doing this. What about years from now when you get married and have kids? Won't they think it's a little strange when they see you talking to… to nothing?"

"Shut up," she orders hotly, her eyes quickly back on mine. "Don't ever say that. You're not nothing."

"To everybody else I am. Nobody can see me, Ashley. Don't you get that?"

"Don't _you _get it?!" she yells in frustration. "You're _all _I can see!" Her chest heaves with her heavy breaths. "And I'm not losing someone who just has a few adjustments to make, so get yourself together."

"It isn't just me who has to adjust, Ashley."

Her head moves up and down. "Okay. Okay, I know that. But you can't just leave without a word, especially in the middle of the night, and you can't keep reminding me that you're dead because believe me, I'm aware of that every minute."

My shoulders slump a little and I feel my heart sink. "We still need to talk about this. It can't be fixed this easily."

Her tears are drying on her face but more are filling her eyes. "Can we just go back to bed? I'm so tired…I can't talk about this now."

I look at her exhausted face and nod in compliance. "Put your coat back on."

Ashley holds her coat up and has difficulty figuring out which way is up and which way is down. I put her out of her misery and take the coat from her hands, never touching her as I bring it up the right way. My body moves behind her and stands close, watching as she eases into it, taking note that she takes her time to move away from me.

* * *

When we get home and into her bed she follows her usual ritual, except this time I can't tell what she's thinking as her eyes stay locked with my own.


	15. Salvation Under My Breath

**Sorry I left you guys hanging. I was just insanely busy yesterday and didn't have time to edit.  
**

**SuperGirl06 -** You do realise you're inflating my ego when you say such things, don't you? Thank you very much. Yes, I felt that the previous chapter was really the first one where the readers could read her feelings on the situation. Reading back the other version of this story, I really feel that I didn't show enough of that and is part of the reason I'm editing and re-posting. In a way, yes. Because they wanted it SO much, it happened, but at the same time, it's a curse. Because it's just confirming their feelings more and more with each chapter and they can't do anything about it. Thanks for your feedback. :)

**xxMaNdYxx **- Thanks!

**burtonuk -** Aw, thank you. You make me blush!

**Conscious -** Dont be such a big baby. You know I didn't mean it! Would a small, sort of uncomfortable hug make you feel better? :D. Snow is fabulous. Almost as fabulous as me. And no, I didn't type that with a straight face. Okay, fine, no babysitters. But a long, long time from now when/if I have children, my seventeen year old will still have a 9:45pm curfew AND will have to call and check in every couple of hours. I worry.

**STALKER -** Ha. We can just stick to stalker on the days I'm feeling lazy and don't feel like typing your name out. My head is already big ^_^. Erin is just Spencer's best friend since she was a little girl. She's mentioned a lot because she was the person she was closest to, besides her family. Oh, yeah? :P Well, how did it go? Did you forgo a mask and just terrify everyone without one? Did you steal their candy when they weren't looking? Did you see The Sanderson Sisters?

**lulubirdy -** Aw, I'm sorry! I can't even say that this chapter will make you feel any better. It's quite the opposite, actually. I couldn't possibly tell you. I really, really don't want to spoil it. But, yes, Spencer is really dead. You're very sweet. Thank you. :D

**Tropper77 -** Thank you. I'm glad you think so. :)

**Goober37 -** I love seeing people's favourite parts, so thank you :D

**jazziejazz94 -** Thank you! Erin was/is Spencer's best friend from growing up. :)

**sayheystevierey -** THANK YOU. I love seeing new readers. Especially ones that leave lovely reviews. The other site is Spashley dot com. You have to register for an account before you can read any of the posts. And a request, tryyy not to read the other version before this has finished.

**XSamXStutterzX -** Haha, you sounded all tongue-tied. It was cute. And, thank you! Glad you like it.

**SpashLuva -** That's _exactly_ what I was trying to get across. Thanks for getting that. Even though I wrote it, throughout this entire story I want to hug both Spencer and Ashley and just make everything better.

**shaws -** Haha. Sorry I didn't get around to that. Perhaps if I write any more Spashley fics after the two I still have going, I'll post double next year ;).

**AbsoluteGarbage -** Thank you :D. More angst on the way.

**Jess -** On the site? You're sweet. Thank you very much. :)

**weightofall -** I was so into writing this before, but when I wrote the previous chapter I _really _got into it. The thing I loved most about writing this was that I barely had to think of anything. It was just *there* and I had to get it all out before I forgot it. And seeing people's reactions to every chapter is really the best thing about not being a professional writer, but a fanfic writer. We have that luxury. It's great. I adore that even though this is a Supernatural story lots of people still see the human side of Spencer. And for all your lovely compliments, thank you. Really. The other site I post on is Spashley dot com but I'm probably going to post most of my stuff over here, anyway. When I post over there I tend to post a chapter of a story a day and so they're usually a little (read: alot) more grammar/typo-filled.

* * *

The first decorations of the neighbourhood went up last week, though not from this house. The Miller's are always the first. A few years ago, one of them was in hospital for day surgery and my mother put our decorations up so that we were first. It wasn't done intentionally, we just wanted to decorate the house.

They didn't give us a Christmas card that year. I found it amusing how they took something so small and made it into such a big deal. My mom put extra kisses on our card to them. Just to make a point, I think.

In my humble opinion, Christmas Eve is the best part about the whole month of December. As soon as the gifts are unwrapped and the food is eaten, it's almost depressing. It's all over with. That's why I don't like December twenty-sixth onward. What is the point of those days? They just make everyone depressed. I always disliked New Years Eve, too. Maybe it's because I've never been a big drinker, or maybe it was just the company I kept.

Have you ever been around a small child at Christmas when they don't get what they asked for? More than once I had to hide a smile at their disappointed smiles and soft thank you's when all they received from their Grandma was an ugly knitted sweater.

I got an ugly sweater from my Grandma once. It was bright red and handmade. I had to wear it two Christmases in a row and then thankfully, I grew out of it. I think Glen threw it on a bonfire with his green one.

* * *

I wonder when Ashley is going to do her Christmas shopping, or if she's even going to buy anything. I'm not sure how she feels about the holiday's. I should ask her.

For the first time in weeks, Ashley's parents aren't working this Saturday and that's working to her advantage because every time I bring up last night she remembers something she has to do. Her parents are shouting her for something, she needs to take a shower, she forgot to shave her legs. Anything to delay the inevitable.

She has been sitting in the back yard for almost an hour listening to music and every time I call her name from the kitchen window, I don't get a response. I'm sure she hears me, she just pretends not to. She's insane for sitting out there in this weather. The is grey and heavy-looking. It looks like snow. I'm surprised she doesn't complain about the temperature every chance she gets.

For the past two days I've learned how to make objects merge with my body so I can be more useful to Ashley. Helping her to carry the groceries, for example. I finally join her outside, taking a scarf with me for her uncovered neck. I don't want her getting sick. I had a scarf like this once, it made my neck itch. When I'm close enough, I gently lower it to her neck and leave her to tie it how she likes it. I sit down in the next chair to her. "Who are you listening to?" I point to her iPod.

"Sarah McLachlan."

I nod in approval and give her time until I'm sure the song she was listening to is over and then point a finger to my ear gesturing her to remove the earplugs.

She does just that before standing up from her seat. "I should go and change the sheets, or something."

"Your dad did them. Sit down."

"My dad did laundry?" she questions as she sits back down. A scoff leaves her lips soon after. "Looks like somebody was caught with the secretary again." She runs her tongue over her teeth briefly. "I always say that if you're going to cheat you should at least be discreet about it. And, secretary's? How very cliché."

"He's had affairs before?"

She nods, unperturbed. "Yeah, a few times. That's why we moved here. For a fresh start, or whatever. It obviously worked a treat."

"Do you think your mom is okay?" I'm concerned. I know how I'd feel in her situation.

"My mom's just fine, trust me. All the late nights they've both been putting in haven't exactly been work related."

"How do you know? Christmas is coming up, so maybe they just -"

"No," she cuts me off and her head shakes to the side. "They're both cheating. Trust me, I know the signs."

"I'm sorry," I offer sincerely.

"Don't be."

"Do you want to talk about it?"

Ashley sighs loudly before she reaches down and scratches her knee uncomfortably. "There's nothing to talk about, Spence."

I accept her decision but still feel concerned, knowing how I would feel in this situation. "If you change your mind, you know where I am. It's not like I'm getting any older," I try to joke. I don't get the smile I was hoping for. "Do you want to put the decorations up today?"

"Uh, no. That's okay."

"Tomorrow?" I suggest.

Her shoulders shrug. "We don't really do decorations. When I was little, there were only two Christmases where we had them up."

"Really?" I ask disbelievingly.

"Yeah. My parents, they aren't big fans of the holiday season."

I make sure to catch her eyes before I say: "Ashley, don't take this the wrong way."

"Okay," she replies slowly.

"Your parents are assholes."

She chuckles. "Oh, I know." She brushes something off her sleeve and bites her lip. "I think that was the first time I heard you curse."

"Yeah, I don't really swear much."

"Why not?"

My shoulders shrug. "I don't see the point."

Ashley remains quiet until she eventually chuckles. "You sound hilarious cursing."

I smile sweetly and look to the grass where I used to lie on a towel to sunbathe in whatever summer we were lucky to get. When I turn back to Ashley she isn't smiling anymore, she looks angry and upset. She's tapping the top of the table with her fingers, which is a habit she has when she's bothered about something. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she replies abruptly.

"So, what, you have a face like that because you won the lottery this morning?"

Ashley's eyebrows furrow in confusion. "A face like what?"

"A face like that." I point to her face.

She's adamant. "My face is fine."

"You look like your puppy just died."

"My puppy didn't die, _you _did," she stresses as she stands swiftly.

I follow at the same speed. "I'm not a puppy." I ignore how ridiculous that sounds out loud and continue quickly, "and I died long before you got here."

Ashley inhales deeply and closes her eyes. "Shut up."

I watch her face and silently apologise for my next words to her, how she's going to feel when she hears them. "I died in a car wreck," I say clearly. Her sharp intake of breath is first and then I see the tears eventually squeeze from shut lids. She opens them and just looks at me. She doesn't even attempt to hide her pain. I jump when I hear the back door slam shut. I didn't even see her move from in front of me. "I'm sorry," I whisper sincerely.

When I eventually enter the house again, Ashley's parents are nowhere to be seen and the car is gone from the driveway. I must have been engrossed in my thoughts not to have heard it. That happens more often than not when I'm thinking about Ashley.

I mute the television they must have left on and walk to the bottom of the stairs. "Ashley, get your ass down here!" I yell.

I understand that it must be difficult to hear but, god, I'm the one who has to live this. I'm the one stuck here for god knows what reason and for god knows how long; I'm the one who doesn't have a family anymore; and I'm the one with a house other people moved into without my permission. When I don't get a response I stomp up the stairs and burst into my bedroom. Ashley is sitting up on the bed ignoring me. "You can't just keep running away from things, Ashley," I tell her firmly.

"I don't want to hear them!" she yells. "God, how many times did I tell you? I told you not to tell me. I didn't want to know. I didn't _need _to know."

"You did need to know, that's the thing," I disagree.

"Why? Why did I need to know? What use is it to _anybody _that I know how you died?" she asks loudly.

"I just wanted you to know something about my life."

"Then you should have told me what you were like when you were eight years old! Not…god, not something like that," she finishes, shaking her head.

"It's important to me that you knew. I don't know why, but it was."

She's almost crying again. "You're hurting me so much."

"And you don't think you're hurting me?!" I explode, walking toward her a little. "You don't think I've been alone for a year without _any_body? You don't think I hated it when a strange family suddenly moved into my house? You don't think I hate it that whenever you get close to me it hurts?" I finish, my eyes surely flashing with emotion.

"I've always been alone!" she retorts. "You know the last time my parents remembered my birthday?" Ashley pauses for my reaction. "I was nine. Every single year they forget and tell me they'll make it up to me, but they're just words, they don't mean anything to me. And the first time I meet somebody who I care about, they turn out to be dead. Now, do you think I don't hate that? Do you think I do a jig every time I see people looking through you? When I was out with Tom and came home early to see you, did you think I liked making up some lame excuse, not being able to tell him that I wanted to get home to my dead friend?"

My throat is painful with emotion and I'm crying now, too. "I can't do this anymore."

She moves closer to the edge of the bed. "You can't do what?"

"I can't be here, it's too much." My head shakes and I can feel my tears against my skin, they're hot.

"Spence, -"

"No," I interrupt. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for hurting you, for making your life so complicated, but I'm not sorry I met you. It almost makes it all worth it, you know?"

Her eyes are full again. "Don't cry. I'm sorry, I know this is hard for you, too but -"

"Just stop." My tone is resigned. "I'm leaving, I have to."

"No." She's shaking her head. "No. You're not. That's not what I meant."

"I can't keep doing this to you, to myself. I need to move on. Whatever the hell that means."

"No," Ashley raises her voice a little. "_God_, no. You're not going anywhere. You're supposed to be here. With me."

My eyes are set on hers and I blink to clear my vision and let some tears fall. "I can't see how right now."

"You can," she rushes out in a whisper. "You're just upset. You're not thinking, okay? So just, just calm down." Her hands lower with her words.

"Ashley." I look at her desperately. "I'm sorry." I can see and hear how fast she's breathing and I know how hard her heart must be beating.

"Stop saying sorry," she accentuates those three words. "You're not going anywhere."

I look at her face, I memorise it to let it stay with me forever. And then I walk away. Ashley breathes in a quick intake of breath just before I hear her moving across the floor. I don't have time to think before she wraps her fingers around my wrist and pulls me around to face her, pushing me against the wall and trapping my body with her own.

I can't feel her body. I can only feel the white, hot pain that seems to wrap around every nerve in my body.

Air gets trapped in my throat when I open my mouth to scream. I'm certain my face is a picture of agony because Ashley stumbles back from me with wide eyes leaving me to fall to the floor. I know I'm crying. I know Ashley is crying.

My head is low when she kneels near to me. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Are you all right?" she's nearly frantic.

"Move back," I tell her when she leans nearer, my breath hitching on the last word.

Ashley moves back immediately. "Tell me you're okay," she demands worriedly.

I wait a long time. "I'm not okay."

"Spence," she whispers after a minute, her tone more wounded than I can stand.

I look up to her slowly, the pain subsiding. "Ashley," I match her volume, just needing to hear her name. Needing to feel the warm, safe feeling I get when I say her name.

"You can't leave me."

My lip shakes pathetically. "What good am I to you?" I ask, defeated.

"You're my angel," she tells me with her voice thick with emotion.

I close my eyes and set my jaw, determined to stop crying.

Her voice shakes. "Please, just stay with me. I'll listen to whatever you need to tell me, but you can't go. I won't let you."

"I don't know," I murmur, confused as to what is for the best. I shift, moving to lean against the wall.

"I'll do anything you want, I swear."

"I don't want them to just be words -"

"They won't be," she cuts in. "I swear, I mean it."

Feeling the need to explain, I quietly murmur: "I'm still used to having people. We were a really close family and I'm still adjusting to them not being around for me."

"You have me," she insists. "I swear you have me."

Her words repeat in my head and wanting to clear the thick, palpable tension, I eventually ask, "But, what if you're annoying me? Who do I talk to then?"

"Then just think of me as Doctor Ashley. I'll be your therapist and you can bitch about Ashley Davies everyday for an hour on the couch." When I don't respond, she continues on seriously, "do you _want _to leave?"

I give her the truth. "No." I just couldn't see another way out. I don't want to keep hurting her. I never want to hurt her.

"Stay with me."

* * *

I stayed. I think I needed to. I've never once regretted my decision. I don't know what would have happened that day if I had walked out that door. I don't know who Ashley would be right now, and I don't know who I'd be right now.

The one thing I knew for sure was that it was the strangest relationship I'd ever experienced.


	16. Empty Corridors

**AbsoluteGarbage -** More is totally on the way. Though, I don't think it's this chapter. Glad to hear it :).

**dangerflowers -** Thanks :]

**Goober37 **- Aw, I love that part, too. Won't be long till we get to it :).

**xxMaNdYxx -** Thaaank you.

**MissMaclay -** MM! You're reading! It's nice to see another familiar face around here :D. Ha. Glad you liked it :P.

**lulubirdy -** I adore the fact you used the word "feces" instead of "shit". Did he really? Haha, no...I promise, William and I have that not in common. Well, most of the time, anyway ;). To lighten things up after the past angsty updates, here is a slightly more up-beat chapter. You're a doctor sometimes? So, does that mean I can only trust you on occasion? See, now I'm never going to know what to think when you say you enjoyed the latest chapter. You've thrown me all off! *smothers on cold cream for up-coming chapters*

**burtonuk -** No lol. Thank god. Glad you're enjoying this still :).

**jazziejazz94 -** lol Aw, that's sweet. Not that you don't have a life, or anything. I'm sure you do. Just the checking twice a day.

**shala24 -** I LOVE that you love this fic :D. Yeah, well, it's the least I can do when someone takes the time to respond to my writing. :)

**XSamXStutterzX -** Your username is really nice to type. Not that you needed to know that, but hey. Yep, it's basically just the beginning for them. Plenty more angst-filled chapters are on the way. Thanks for your feedback :]

**NDFightingIrishFan -** You shoulda waited! :P. But no, I'm really, really glad you seemed to like it. After all, it wouldn't be half as much fun for me if you didn't ;). Yeah, a few people have mentioned a sequel but I'm pretty hesitant on that. Not dead-set against it, if you'll excuse the pun, but I don't know... we shall see :) Thanks for your lovely review.

**xvolcom11x -** :D Thank you muchly.

**Conscious -** Yeah, well, you're not far off being one. Ha, puns ahoy! I was indeed, but you didn't immediately accept so now I'm wondering if I should just withdraw my offer. I dunno, what do you think? Should I? :P! Oh, whatEVER. Jo Snow any day of the week. Uh, 10:30? No. They'll be tucked up in bed by then. 9:45 was generous! They'll have plenty of time for a social life. On Friday's and Saturday's they can stay out until 10:00. Are you allowed to roam the streets until all hours of the night? I bet you are. It'd explain a LOT.

**KID STALKER SPAZ -** See, I wasn't lazy today. I won't always be this generous with my time and energy, though, so don't get used to it, or anything. Thaaank you. Oh, that's a huge no lol. At least not yet, anyway. I think it's way too soon for the second-to-last obstacle to be overcome, also. You should be careful mentioning serial killers as often as you are. Perhaps I'll start calling you Serial Killer Kid Stalker Spaz. Oh, yeah. I like it. SKKSS abbv. Imagine how long your nick' is going to be by the time this is done.

An hour? Oh, jeez. That's a kick in the teeth for you :D. Yeah, definitely, two hours is an acceptable time. I mean, there's only so many houses you can hit before you start getting toothbrushes instead of Candy.  
You wore a cape? Sexy.  
Well, aren't you sweet? I would've at least "borrowed" one of their best pieces of candy. I'd be saving their mother's precious money they'd otherwise have to spend on Mr Dentist. See, I can be nice.  
Sucks for yooou :P.

**Pendulum666 - **Really? Well, thank you. Hope you continue to enjoy :).

Have you ever been looking through old photo albums and noticed the strangers in the background? How sometimes they're looking away, or sometimes they're looking directly at the camera, frozen in time. I always used to wonder who they were, what their names were, if they'd ever been in love, and if their life story would be epic or average. Then I used to try to figure out what kind of life story I wanted to have, and which one would actually be better; the life of a famous rockstar, or the average yet overwhelming life most people live. The life I lived.

I think you just have to ask yourself what you define as epic, and is anything in this world really average? I don't think so. I think everything and everyone has the potential to be epic. It's just a matter of whether or not that potential is recognised and used. I'm willing to bet that if you asked a person who was in the magazines every week with camera's following them and capturing their every move, they would switch with your ordinarily beautiful life in a heartbeat.

A lot of people are never really happy with what they have, even down to the smallest detail of what type of hair they have.

They say that the suicide rate goes up near to the holidays. All of those people who want to die, to put an end to whatever is too much for them to take, I don't think they realise I would do anything to be in their position. To have my heart beat again.

Shortly after I died, I used to sit in my room, my room that was empty but I never saw that it was empty—I didn't want to see—and I held my breath. I would sit there for hours at a time holding my breath trying to feel if my heart so much as twitched. It never did. I know it's still there because I feel it seize, and I feel it fill so much it could burst. I just don't feel it beat.

I've almost forgotten how it feels to have it pounding against my ribs. I've almost forgotten how a heartbeat sounds.

It didn't snow a few days ago when it looked like it was going to, it was just cold. It must have been freezing because even in bed I noticed Ashley had goosebumps on her arms. Regardless of the low temperature, her eyes looked the direct opposite, they were so warm when they were all over me. I felt my face growing hotter the longer she looked at me in the _way _she was looking at me.

When I saw that it was getting late I told her to go to sleep and that, as always, I'd be there in the morning. It was the first time in a long time she fell asleep before midnight.

My wrists were still hurting from when she held them to keep me in place against the wall. The only way I could begin to describe it would be to say that it felt like terrible sunburn. The skin felt scalded, tender, and stinging almost as if blistered. It faded at some point during the night when Ashley was dreaming her dreams.

Neither of her parents came back home that night, but I heard her father sneak back in the house around eight the next morning. Christine wasn't far behind. I'm not sure if they were out somewhere talking about their marriage and trying to come up with solutions to fix it, or if they were both out with different people.

Both scenarios made me want to reach for Ashley limp and sleepy hand, but I didn't, I couldn't. I knew it would hurt too much to have to let go.

* * *

Today we've decided to go for a walk. I like walking with Ashley because in this weather I can smell her perfume through what I'm sure is the bitter wind. I'm wearing a scarf for her today. I'm not cold but when I saw her putting god knows how many layers on to leave the house, I asked her to pass me a scarf. The smile she gave me in return was enough to keep me in a good mood for the rest of the week.

She curses when the wind picks up and I watch as she pushes her gloved hands further into her pockets.

"Are we a little cold?" I tease, not bothering to hide a smirk.

Her teeth chatter. "Oh, shut up."

"Here." I stop walking and unravel the soft material from around my neck, holding it out toward her. "You need this more than I do."

"No," she says gently as her head shakes. "It's yours."

The scarf is hers. All I own are the clothes I'm wearing. I don't say anything else, I just hold each end and hook it around her neck, forcefully flipping an end upward so that it flicks up and wraps around her neck without me having to get too close.

"You didn't have to do that, Spence," she tells me nicely.

I shrug nonchalantly. "Looks better on you, anyway."

"You're crazy."

I smile. "I don't think so."

"The crazies never do."

"Oh, shut up," I echo her words from earlier, causing her to smile.

When we reach the wooden bridge Ashley lets me walk onto the boards first. As soon as I look down to the water, I see that it's frozen and up the stream there are three ducks sliding around on the slippery surface.

"Are we really going to sit on the cold floor?" Ashley asks with a look of disdain.

"Take off one of your, how many layers was it?" I raise an eyebrow playfully.

"Three."

I raise the other one.

"Four."

I lift my head up a little.

"Okay, god. Five."

I chuckle, thoroughly amused. "You're pathetic. Sit on one of your jackets or your coat."

She sits down on a jacket and I move to the left of her, blocking a lot of the cold wind. She keeps looking at me and turning away. "What are you thinking?" I ask.

Ashley moves back a little and turns around to face me, sitting Indian style. "Were you happy?" she inquires softly.

"Yeah, I was. I mean, I had bad days like everybody, but for the most part, yeah, I was happy."

She nods slowly.

I think I gave her the answer she was looking for, relieved I didn't have to lie to make her feel better.

"What was the one thing you wanted to do before you, you know?" she continues with her questions.

I rest my palms on my knees, already knowing the answer to her question but being a little embarrassed to say it aloud. "My answer is really cliché."

"It doesn't matter," she assures me.

"I just wanted to fall in love."

Her eyes are almost glued to my own. "And did you?"

I think about my hilarious attempt at having a boyfriend and then the two girls I dated. "No."

A comfortable silence passes over us and we watch the world around us. We watch the river stay still; glance at the leaves stuck at the riverbank, staying in the rotted pile they've formed; watch the ducks continue to slide around on the frozen water, almost clambering over each other to reach a safer place; but mostly, I notice the steady breaths which condense in front of her mouth every other second and how the air remains still in front of mine.

"What's the one thing you want to do in life?" It's my turn to ask Ashley.

She shrugs and looks down to pick at a loose thread on her gloves. "I don't know. The usual, I guess. I think everybody's answer to this question can be cliché."

I lower my head a little to get her attention, causing her to look back up to my face. "Tell me?" I request.

She looks wistful. "To fall in love, to be everything to someone, to be remembered, to be content and happy with what I have."

I smile at her response. "You don't want much, huh?"

Her grin is genuine. "I'm greedy."

I decide to change the topic to something less serious. "What are you doing for Christmas?"

"I'm not sure, why?"

My shoulders shrug half-heartedly. "No reason."

"You're a really bad liar, you know."

The corner of my mouth turns upward as I cast a sideways glance to Ashley. "I just wondered if you were going back to LA, or something."

"We're definitely not going back to LA. I think we'll just be here."

I try not to appear as ecstatic as I am. "That's cool."

"Wouldn't it be awesome if my parents decided to go away, though?"

"With you?"

"No, no. With each other and leave the house to us for a few days."

The activities we could get up to while her parents aren't in town cause my face to feel almost warm. "Do you think they will?"

"Who knows with my parents."

I intentionally smile stupidly when Ashley looks at me and she doesn't say anything, she just pulls a cute but silly face. "So," she begins suddenly, "what do you want from Santa this year?"

"A new Barbie."

A genuine smile appears on her face. "No, seriously. What do you want for Christmas?"

I'm a little shocked at the question. I mean, I really haven't even really thought about it. Why would I? "I don't want anything."

"I hate that." Her head turns down, looking to where my uncovered hand is resting on the cold and partly splintered wood near to her leg. "When people say that, they're so lying and just being polite."

I chuckle at her accusation. "Are you calling me a liar?"

"Yes," she emphasises the word as she raises her head, her eyes dancing.

"I really don't know. Surprise me?" I add on a moment later.

"I will."

"You're sweet for asking me," I tell her honestly, shyly meeting her eyes.

Ashley rolls her eyes but somehow they end up back on mine mere seconds later. I like that she does that, I like that I could describe every tiny detail of her eyes, every spec of colour. I like how she makes me feel like I'm the only person in the room, the only person around her. I understand that most of the time that's an actual fact, but even when we're around other people I feel it. "What do you want?" I ask her.

"I don't want anything," she mocks.

I'd slap her on the arm if I could. "Tell me," I insist, and perhaps I've been out in the cold too long, or maybe somehow I'm dreaming, but I swear her eyes just told me what she wanted.

"Surprise me," she whispers.

"I'll try," I reply, ending our conversation for quite some time.

Christine has actually cooked tonight which it's a rare occurrence. Ashley nearly spat out her water when I told her that her mother was cooking. "You need to unpack," I tell Ashley from my position on the floor leaning against the door and looking up at her on the bed.

"I don't," she disagrees.

I roll my eyes and I open my mouth to challenge her but her father shouting her to go downstairs for dinner stops me from doing just that.

"She's probably poisoned the food," I hear her quip as she moves off the bed.

I scrunch up my face as I laugh. "Oh, god." What a drama queen!

When we reach the dining room Ashley pulls out a chair for me, as always, and then 'decides' to change places and sit on the chair next to me.

"Ashley," Christine says.

"Yeah, hey," she replies a little dismissively.

I watch as Ashley and Christine have some sort of staring competition. "What's wrong with you lately, Ashley?"

"What?"

"You're different."

Ashley sighs quietly. "You don't sound sure, are you guessing?"

"I'm your mother, I know these things."

"Do you know when my birthday is?" she asks.

It's almost thirty long seconds later when Christine replies June eighteenth. It took that long to remember something that shouldn't even take half a second. Ashley laughs almost sardonically and stabs a baby carrot onto her fork. Her birthday is June seventeenth.

"Seriously, what is wrong with you?" her mother asks, growing frustrated.

"I see dead people," Ashley whispers the quote, making me laugh.

"Shut up," I warn her, amused nonetheless.

Christine quickly loses interest. "If you're just going to be silly Ashley, I don't want to know."

"That suits me fine."

Ashley's father, Raife, appears bored, his food is already half eaten.

"You want me to pick up the salt shaker?" I ask Ashley.

She glances to her father, me copying her action soon after. He's cutting into a potato and is totally engrossed in his meal. She nods subtly and I smile, reaching over to pick up the salt shaker. I wave it around a little, catching Christine's eyes. They widen to the point of popping and she looks like she's going to faint. I lower it back to the table when she gains the attention of her husband.

"Did you see that?!"

He shrugs, quickly looking back down to smother gravy onto the potato.

"See what, Mom?" Ashley asks in a bored tone. If I didn't know any better, I'd say she was innocent in all of this.

"The salt! It was in the air!"

"Too many martini's. You should cut back."

"No, I swear I saw…" she trails off, staring at the salt and moving her head to different angles.

"Of course you did," Ashley answers mockingly.

* * *

I went out for a walk tonight, alone. I told Ashley where I was going and that I was fine, I just needed to go out for some air. She wanted to join me but I declined and told her I'd be back before she fell asleep. When I got back she informed me that the only thing her parents have planned for Christmas is attending a pretentiously ostentatious party thrown by one of their work colleagues. She told me that I had to join her so we could make fun of all the old women dressing twenty years younger and showing more skin than should be legally acceptable. I laughed and told her I'd think about it.

Now we're in bed and Ashley is following her usual nightly ritual of looking at me. I'm following mine: watching her too, and blushing when her eyes linger on my lips.

I nearly cry when she looks at me so intently that I can almost feel my heart beating.


	17. Stars Fall Like Dust

**burtonuk -** Aw lol. Well, good, then. I'm glad. Yeah, Spencer does seem to blush a hell of a lot. It's easy to make me blush, but not _that _easy ;). Thank you. A few weeks ago I was going through some photographs with my Mom and we were laughing at her hair (trust me, it was hilarious) and we noticed this guy in the background laughing hysterically at something, but we don't know who he is. It was from a family event, too. So, yeah, I do the photograph thing too, I have to admit. You can't help but wonder. Now, see _that _almost makes me blush. Careful :P.

**MissMaclay -** Good! Noo, don't apologise. I'm just happy you're re-reading :D. You're reading RA again? Haha. Awesome. Thank you, lovely.

**jazziejazz94 -** I always wanted to be homeschooled. I asked my Mom so many times, with the argument: "But, I'll learn faster!". It didn't fly with her. She knew I just wanted to sleep in later in the mornings. Honestly though, do you learn faster being one on one? MY mother has never forgotten my birthday, but there's two of us (I'm a twin) so it's a little more difficult lol. Hope you enjoy today's reading :P.

**xxMaNdYxx -** Thank you!

**lulubirdy -** I've never heard a kid say "Oh, feces!" but it sounds oddly cute. Especially with one of those cute American accents. Appalling _indeed. _How can he suggest swearing around children is not responsible in itself? His babies must be little angels, because some kids...well, you just want to throttle them. I'm so happy with your review that it's ridiculous! Haha, well I am kind of enjoying myself.

**War Myce -** Well, you're very sweet, aren't you? Thank you very much. Is this soon enough for you? ;)

**AbsoluteGarbage -** Ashley is almost annoyingly adorable. Thanks for your feedback :).

**XSamXStutterzX -** You should change it if you really want to :P. Yeah, they are very sad. It would definitely be the best gift ever! You'll just have to keep reading to see if that happens, or not ;). I adore theories, but okay, okay, you can keep it to yourself. No, don't say sorry, I love rambles!

**Conscious -** And yet another word to add to your name: Slow Serial Killer Kid Stalker Spaz. Really, now, you're just trying to get it a sentence long, aren't you? Admit it. It does look nice, though. SSKKSS. You should try to get it so that it spells Sarah Is Kick Ass. You're not too far off, and really, that's the only way I'd ever type it :P. YES I am British and Yes, I do have an accent. Does that change your opinion on whether or not I'm as fabulous as snow? I only just saw that you're a twin, btw. We have that in common. Haha, well on occasion I am known to be. *dramatically flings arms around you*

I didn't know there was a driving curfew for minors. Is that a state law, or a country law? Okay, fine! 10:30 and that's it. Perhaps 11 if they begged and begged, but only if I was in a good mood or wanted an "early" night. They can still have a decent social life from the hours of 3:15 - 9:45/10:00/10:30. It would really depend on what mood I was in and if the car needed cleaning. If they beg to stay out late, I'll agree on three conditions. One: Wash the car. Two: Keep their phone on. Three: Make sure their school-work was finished. Not necessarily in that order, but you get the picture.

**SERIAL KILLER KID STALKER SPAZ -** I love how it cuts off the last part of you name on the review section. Perhaps on some days, yes. As soon as I do, I know you'll be like "You lazy bitch!". I think you handle just fine.

*nods* Yeah, absolutely. I can only handle _writing _so much angst, so every couple of chapters I had to make it as light as I could with a story like this. Glad other people (including serial killers) like that, too.  
Haha, did she? Aw, I can just imagine the look on those poor little darlings' faces when they recieved a toothbrush holder. It's like a lump of coal at Christmas. Or looking forward to awesome cereal and your mother buying "Fortunate Charms". Not that they get sold in this country, or probably anywhere, but whatever.  
I have no doubts.  
Why does candy hate you?

**SuperGirl06 -** Thank you! You know, I was just about to say "keep reading" but you'll actually find out in this chapter. I thought it was at least a couple of chapters before we got to gifts, but nope. Oh totally, I agree, it would be so cliche. You're sweet, thank you :D.

**crickett13 -** Thank you. You'll get more of a description later on in the story, yes. :)

**weightofitall -** Sorry you were late for work, but _thank _you. I don't particularly enjoy reading a paragraph's length of how the wind is blowing, so I try not to write in such a way when describing a particular scene. Aw, no, definitely not crazy. Whether it will pay off or not, is a different thing. Haha, well I happen to love long reviews, so you're safe!

* * *

Each time I went to the movies with my mother, she would always make me smile with her predictable nature. Every time she would bring a big purse and fill it with candy and chips from home. Sometimes she would pay for a drink but she didn't always like to, she said the prices were ridiculous and what we buy at the store is just as good, but cheaper.

I don't know if it was just because my family was never really flush with money, but I liked it. She would always bring too much and we'd just finish it during the next couple of days.

The first time I was allowed to go to the mall on my own was when I was ten, almost eleven. I was given fifteen dollars to spend with strict orders to come back with at least some change. I only spent four of it. I couldn't see anything I liked, I just bought lunch.

My mother spent a long time warning me not to talk to strangers, hold my bag tight, stay close to Erin, call when I was ready to come home. It was a new experience, one I wasn't sure if I liked. I didn't dislike it as such, but I wasn't sure it lived up to the hype. It was just the mall, who cares who you were with?

It was at least a year before I actually looked forward to going to the mall with friends instead of family, but that didn't last very long, either. I think it was just because everybody else my age was supposed to be embarrassed about being seen with their parents shopping. I stopped pretending pretty quickly.

The only embarrassed phase I went through concerning my parents was watching love scenes in a movie. I wanted to couch to swallow me whole. I was always convinced my parents were looking at me. I don't recall what movie it was, but during one love scene I had to comment on. It was ridiculous even from my opinion, the then virgin. I blurted out: "This looks like a bad porno." It wasn't pretty. A life scarring conversation took place with my parents and I. I don't think I uttered a single coherent word, I was too embarrassed. I hadn't even seen a porno then, it was just a guess.

Eighteen months later I found out it was a good call. My first time having sex was nothing like that, and my first and only time watching a porno was exactly how I thought it would be. Cringe-worthy.

Glen had a collection of them in his room. I sometimes liked to snoop around when he was out of the house. I watched it on mute because I was scared I wouldn't hear when somebody was walking upstairs or I wouldn't hear the car engine outside.

I had to force my dinner down that day.

* * *

Ashley and I are at the park. I'm swinging lightly on the swing next to her, content to watch the air leave her lips in a small cloud. Content to watch her being alive. She's holding onto the chains of the swing with the ends of the sleeves on her coat, her hands hiding inside to keep warm.

There's nobody else around and I don't blame them. It's so close to Christmas that they're probably doing last minute shopping, or they're just sane enough to stay inside. It's almost midday and the thick, white frost is still covering the blades of grass.

The sky is dark grey in colour and heavy-looking. I think it's going to snow today. "Have you ever seen a porno?" I ask Ashley suddenly.

Her feet hit the floor hard, coming to an abrupt halt. "What?" she asks, shocked.

"I was just wondering."

"I can't believe you, Spencer Carlin, just asked me if I've ever seen a porno."

I carry on swinging. "Oh, whatever." I chuckle. "Just answer me."

"I've seen a porno, yeah." She laughs a second later. "You are so weird."

I laugh with her and lift my legs higher, swinging faster. I jump off mid-swing and land on my feet an impressive distance away. Ashley's face is a picture before she stops swinging again. "Show off," she states.

I smile brightly.

She picks up her purse from the floor next to her and puts it over her shoulder. "You need to, oh, how can I put this?" she asks dramatically.

I snap my fingers, the action telling her to hurry up.

"You need to stay away from me today."

I jut out my bottom lip jokingly. "Why?"

"Because."

"Because," I mock gently, walking in step with her to leave the park.

"I'm getting your Christmas gift today and I don't want you to see," she explains.

"Exciting," I drag the word out. "What is it?"

"You'll see in a couple of days."

"You're so mean to me. I hope you know that."

Her smile, though subtle, still catches my eye. "You won't think so when you see what it is."

I feel terrible. I can't buy Ashley anything because I don't have any money. I hope she will like my pathetic excuse of a gift tomorrow. I decided to give it her a day earlier because it's the perfect opportunity with everybody attending the Christmas party. I told her yesterday that I'd decided not to go. She begged, pouted, and then finally sulked.

The park is at the farthest part of town. It takes at least thirty five minutes to walk here, even when you're not walking particularly slow.

"Sit down," Ashley says, pointing to a bench.

"Lazy, thy name is Ashley."

She laughs and sits down also, her arm resting on the back of the bench. My neck is uncovered. It hurts. "Ashley, your hand."

I don't need to tell her twice. She removes it from behind my head instantly. "I'm sorry. Are you okay?"

"Yeah." I nod my point, also.

Her eyes search mine for the truth, relenting when she knows I'm okay. "I like this." She points to herself and then me. "I like walking with you when it's cold. It actually feels like Christmas this year. When I was little, I used to wish for a white Christmas every year with my birthday wish."

"I like this, too." I look up toward the sky. "I think it's going to snow tonight, maybe tomorrow morning." When I look back down Ashley is just gazing at me in the way that makes me feel too warm wearing this thin t-shirt in this twenty-six degree weather. "What?" I ask with a small shrug and a slight turn of my head, feeling shy.

"Nothing," she replies softly.

"Don't be gone too long today," is all I say.

* * *

I don't know where Ashley's parents are this afternoon. They already started their work Christmas vacation, so perhaps they're shopping or out to lunch. My family always used to have lunch at a restaurant a few days prior to Christmas. They were good memories.

I watched the TV for a while, I did the dishes Ashley was supposed to do, I listened to music. I did everything I could think of until I decided to just wait in the bedroom. I loved Ashley's bed, I was even used to her pillows.

It's getting dark, so I lean over and switch the beside light on. When I move back I accidentally catch the scent of Ashley on her pillow and can't help breathing it in. It's comforting how somebody's scent can make you feel, how it can make you close your eyes and wrap around you like a warmth you didn't know you were missing.

"Spencer!" I hear a voice yell from downstairs. It's Ashley.

"Up here!" I shout back and smile when I hear her shoes connecting with the floor in the hallway.

"Your eyes better be closed, got it?" I hear her say as she ascends the stairs.

I close them. "Got it."

"I mean it, Spencer. If I see that they're open when I get in there, you're so -"

"Dead?" I offer.

"Original." She pauses. "And, yes."

I shake my head at her, aware that I'm smiling faintly. "They're closed."

I hear the door open and I assume Ashley peeks in to see if I'm being truthful. "Keep them closed," she orders lightly.

"Uh huh."

"I mean it. It isn't wrapped yet," she explains, sounding somewhat frustrated. "I don't know where to keep it, you'll see it everywhere."

"Put it underneath the bed. If I look, then I give you permission to do something bad to me."

"Now who's being dirty?" Ashley questions before she moves around a little and I hear my gift slide underneath the bed.

I pretend I didn't hear her question.

* * *

Tonight is the party. Ashley has been begging me all day to stop being stubborn and just go with her, but I won't give in. I can't. "You know you're going to say yes at the last minute," she tells me with conviction.

"I have things to do tonight and attending a party is not one of them."

"You'll miss me," she says almost warningly.

She's right, I probably will. "The time apart will do us good."

"Says who?" she scoffs.

"Says me."

Ashley frowns and a few moments later, hits her hand off the mattress. "Spence! Stop being so stubborn. It's Christmas Eve, I'll be bored if you don't come with me. These parties take, like, five hours. At least."

"I'll be here when you get back," I remind her.

She tells me to leave the room and I nearly apologise for upsetting her until she tells me she's going to change. Instead of trying to see through walls, I make my way downstairs to give her the privacy she asked for. Her parents look very nice, I have to say. The only let down being that their perfume and cologne follow them around the house. They've both put far too much on.

They're both in the kitchen writing on something. A card, no doubt.

A little later the stairs creak and I turn my head to the left just in time to see Ashley come to a stop at the bottom of the stairs. Her hair is straight and she's wearing a full length white evening gown. Her parents have entered the room, but I can't stop staring. I think my mouth is open. I don't think I've ever seen her look more beautiful, she looks like she's glowing.

"How do I look?" Ashley asks, looking directly at me with eyes that threaten to paralyse me.

"You look lovely, Ashley," her father replies.

I still can't speak and her eyes are still glued to mine.

"We're going to miss a good parking spot if we don't leave now," Christine announces. Not even mentioning how her daughter looks.

"I'll be there in a second, I just have to get my purse," Ashley explains, pointing toward the kitchen.

I hear one of them tell her to hurry up but I'm not positive who it was. "You look…" I trail off, shaking my head. I don't know what words to use. I don't know if they'd do her justice.

She messes with her hair self consciously. "Yeah, well, it's Christmas. You have to make an effort at this time of year, right?"

"Amazing, beautiful, captivating, stunning, I could go on," I finally say, regaining a tiny bit of self-confidence.

Ashley rolls her eyes playfully. "You're just trying to butter me up because you won't keep me company tonight."

I smile, shaking my head. "No, you look incredible. Really."

"Thank you."

"You're welcome."

When a car horn sounds, Ashley tears her eyes away from me to grab her purse from the kitchen counter, joining me again moments later. "I'll see you later?"

"You will," I confirm.

"You promise?"

"I promise."

Ashley nods just barely. "My phone is on me," she gestures to her purse.

My head nods. "I'll call if we're being robbed."

I think I faintly hear the car horn sound again, but it's difficult to tell when she won't look away from me.

"I'll see you later," she repeats.

I nod and she walks to the door, smiling at me before she pulls the door shut.

* * *

When I'm certain enough time has passed for them to potentially come back to the house for having forgotten something, I make my way upstairs and into Ashley's room. I look to the boxes that have been stacked up in the corner of the room for far too long and I unpack them, I make this room hers. I accept that this house doesn't belong to me anymore.

Ashley really didn't have a lot to unpack. It only took a little over an hour to get it all finished. I think it's because she's been using a lot of her things as she needs them. I stop to take a look at the room and smile. It looks much better with everything unpacked, it looks like a proper bedroom. It looks like _her _bedroom.

The door to her room is pulled shut and I walk to Glen's old bedroom they're using as storage. I hurry, not wanting to be in here for too long. It's still too weird. I won't be able to carry all of this, so I place things in the hallway ready to take downstairs.

I slide their fake Christmas tree down the stairs in its box because it's too heavy for me to carry and wince when it hits the wall forcefully. I can't believe there are people who don't put decorations up at Christmas. Aside from the presents and dinner, it's the main attraction.

Excluding the time when it nearly fell on top of me, the tree was relatively easy to set up. I smile when I see a bauble with Ashley's name on it. It's old, green, and has untidy red glitter writing on it. She must have done it at school when she was little.

I nearly curse when I plug the lights in to see if they work and see only three shining back at me. I check the boxes again, spotting two different sets, and with a quick testing to one of them, I'm filled with relief when most of them work. I used to love testing the tree lights. I'd always make sure it was dark outside before we put our tree up, and then switch the room's main light off before I tested them. They look so pretty when they're all you can see.

More time than I had originally wanted has passed since I began setting the tree up, but it looks great in the corner of the room. It makes the room look homey. I exit the room with three empty boxes and switch the main light off, leaving the room to glow from the tree-lights. I quickly throw the empty boxes into the room they use for storage and walk back into Ashley's room with a box of lights.

* * *

When I'm finished, I wait. I wait so long I think I'm starting to go crazy. The clock tells me that only five hours and twenty minutes have passed since I last saw her but I would swear that it's been longer.

As soon as I hear the familiar hum of their car, I smile. I leave Ashley's door wide open, positive she will be up here before her parents. Three doors open and close respectively and I hear the key being pushed into the lock of the front door.

"Oh my god," I hear her parents say seconds later, almost in unison as they walk through the door. "Who did this?"

I listen for the voice I want to hear.

"Ashley, are you okay?" her father asks.

I wait for her response but she doesn't deliver one.

"Ashley," he repeats.

All I hear is somebody running upstairs. I know those footsteps. I don't smile when I see her awed face because I can't believe how much the white Christmas lights hanging on her wall are making her eyes sparkle and her skin glow. She's breathing faster than usual but I don't know if it's because of her running. Ashley's eyes are looking around the room, around _her _room. "Spence," she says quietly.

"Do you like it?" I ask carefully.

"You have no idea what this means to me."

She steps forward a little and I kneel up on the bed. I can't remember if I was going to say anything. I forget a lot of things when she looks at me how she's currently looking at me. My eyes close and I take an instinctive deep breath before standing. Her eyes are truly sparkling from those lights. "Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?" I ask her, not being able to take my eyes off her.

Ashley smiles faintly but sincerely. "You told me earlier. I said, 'thank you'."

I smile with her, barely hearing the words leaving her lips.

"God, I don't even know what to say to you," she continues.

I take another deep breath. "This can only happen once, okay?" I speak softly.

She looks confused. "What?"

I step into her personal space, ignoring the instinctive urge to stumble back. Ashley does it for me. "What are you doing? You're going to hurt yourself."

"Stay still," I almost demand. Her breaths increase noticeably when I step forward once again. I'm so close to her that I can smell her perfume. My arms wrap around her uncovered neck and pull her against body against my own. I hear us both quietly gasp. I think it's for two different reasons. I feel like I'm dying again with the pain, but how could I be when all I feel in her arms is alive?

I don't tell her the tears already on my face are mostly from the pain, and I don't tell her the other reason is because I can feel her heart; I can feel it pounding. Her arms lock around my waist and I can feel her shaking. My eyes remain closed tightly. So much so that I can see a flash of white. I'm struggling not to tremble and decide to just concentrate on her heart and how her body feels against my own, how her perfect hands feel as they attempt to pull me closer.

I have to let go soon, or I know I won't be able to muffle my scream.

Her head rests on my shoulder and I hear her breathe in my scent. "Spencer," she whispers a few moments later.

I can only whisper, too. "Yeah?"

Her heart-rate picks up noticeably. "Will you kiss me?"

I close my eyes at her request, more moisture sliding down my face.

"Please, just once."

I pull back and look at her. I've never seen her look like this. She's been crying, too. With my fingers, I wipe away her tears and brush some of her hair back behind her ear, keeping my hand there and moving the other to rest on her neck. Blatantly ignoring how my body is beginning to tense up in agony, I give her time to take back her request, something that doesn't happen.

Her eyes drift shut when I begin to lean in. I look at her standing here with her eyes closed holding me and looking beautiful, and I can't believe she has just asked me to kiss her. My lips press against hers softly, gently adding the briefest pressure and suction on her bottom lip before slowly pulling away.

When I open my eyes hers are still closed. I carefully rub my thumb across her lips to seal my kiss and step back, not being able to stand it anymore.

As soon as I do I feel as though my bones are breaking and my skin is on fire. It's almost like when you leave your hand under the hot water for too long and you pull away when you can't handle it anymore, for a split second there's relief but then some how it gets hotter. I can't help the pain filled whimper that escape my lips.

Ashley isn't stupid. She knows how much that hurt me, to touch her, to finally hold her and have to let go. When she opens her eyes they're lidded and dark. I don't need a mirror to know that mine are, too. Through the pain, I still felt her, I still held her, and I still kissed her. I still felt alive for the first time in a year.

Ashley is slightly out of breath. "Are you all right? Did I hurt you?"

My lips are on fire and I blink back my tears. "Let's go to bed, we can talk tomorrow."

She shakes her head, disagreeing with me. "I won't sleep unless I know you're okay."

"I'll be okay." I gesture to the hallway. "I'll wait out there so you can get changed," I say before moving toward the door. I close it behind me before slumping against it and bringing my fingers to trace across my lips.

* * *

This time when we lie in bed I don't blush when her eyes linger on my lips. I just wish for them back on my own. She still looks beautiful from the glow of the lights. "You really do look like an angel tonight," are the last words she tells me before falling asleep moments later.

I look at her lips and smile. Those lips kissed me back, just for a second.

It was all I needed.


	18. Winter Air

**sayheystevierey -** You will indeed, but not too long ;). I totally agree. Thanks for your feedback.

**Conscious -** Haha, well yeah, it would be a little weird if you read things with, like, a French accent. Cute, because soft French accents are adorable, but weird ;). It's okay for me to still call you slow though, right? I mean, how are we supposed to get Sarah Is Kick Ass without the all-important "S"? I dunno, maybe if you were actually nice for once I could have the "S" standing for sweet. Alas, pigs don't fly. Aww, okay, that was kind of sweet, and I get it totally. My twin is my other half, too. One of my soulmates. I can't believe you *gingerly* hugged me back. *shakes head* Some people just don't know the significance of my hugs. Yeah, you probably will. They'll come running back into the house with, like, three strands of singed hair, "Mom! Look what a bottle of nail-polish remover and a lit match does!"

**SSKKSS -** Ha! You know, I was actually online when I read that and I was so close to posting again...but nah :P *waits to be called lazy* You _loved _the chapter? Well, good. I'm glad. She's definitely a sweetheart.  
Crazy. Now we have the "C" for your nick'. Why on earth would one want a stuffed lizard when they could have popcorn? It's no wonder those kids didn't listen to you. It's like listening to the weird kid in class who has a green, crusty nose.  
Candy hates everybody!

**SuperGirl06 -** Thank you. All I'll say is that it's going to be very frustrating. You have a great day, too!

**xxMaNdYxx -** Aw, thank you. That kinda makes my day whenever someone says that.

**Miss Maclay -** You're sweet, you know that? _Thank_ you.

**lulubirdy -** *blushes and bows* Thank you. Nooo, no worshipping necessary. Well, unless you really wanted to :D. I need not industrial strength deodoriser, nor antibacterial foot lotion. I always smell as fresh as a daisy and if you were to worship me, I'd have you and your popeye arms carry me around on a red velvet throne. My lovely feet would never touch a floor again!

**jco32 -** "Beautiful" is putting it lovely! Thank you.

**NotxxWhatxxItxxSeems -** Aw, thanks.

**xvolcom11x -** Very glad to hear it. :)

**burtonuk -** I do :P. Oh, totally! My mom took SO many pictures of me and my twin wearing the same outfit over and over again. It's like a pink cardigan with cute little kittens on the buttons, but still, vary it up a little, Mother. It's like we had one outfit for six months. Thanks for your feedback :).

**War Myce -** :P. Glad you liked it.

**jazziejazz94 -** Thank you :). That sounds like a cool arrangement. Ha, yeah, I'd be the same. I'm a huge procrastinator. I would do that but I'm twenty :P. High school hasn't applied to me in a long time. Hope you had a good day procrastinating over schoolwork!

**AbsoluteGarbage -** :D Thank you.

**Goober37 -** *hands you a beer to celebrate*

**devil2010 -** Keep reading and you'll see.

**XSamXStutterzX -** I hate thinking of new usernames, too. It takes too long. Haha, no worries. Oh, I totally get what you mean. It's kind of the main point now, that it hurts her more _not_ to touch than to touch. Thanks for your feedback :).

* * *

I can't help thinking of my family this morning; wondering what they would be doing if the last year had never happened, what gifts they would be giving each other, think of the pile of torn wrapping paper that would form in the middle of the living room, and I think of how, once again, I'd look to my dysfunctional family and think that they were perfect. I would smile at how every year my mother joked about not tearing the paper because she was going to use it next year, and roll my eyes but secretly love it during the Christmas lunch when all my family would do is re-tell old stories.

My mother always used to repeat one of how, on one Christmas Eve, she went to a bar with her cousin and on the way home they decided to go to midnight mass, drunk. They sat at the back laughing and sharing chocolate, waiting for the free wine.

I would love to go back in time to see what she was like at my age, properly. I'd like to see if we'd be friends or if I would dislike her, see if she would be nice to me on the first meeting, or if I would be someone she would have to spend time with to grow to like.

The strangest Christmas Eve I had was when I was fifteen. At seven p.m. I went to meet a friend in town and when I spotted him, I saw he was with another friend of his. All we did was walk around town and I'd listen to them complain about how much they didn't want to go home, when that's all I wanted to do. I still had all my gifts to wrap, plus all of Glen's because he used so much tape you spent minutes trying to prise it open the next morning, only to reach for the scissors with a sigh. It wasn't all bad, my friend did sing Dolly Parton's Jolene at the top of his lungs. I laughed so hard my stomach hurt.

I wouldn't say last night was at the top of my Christmas Eve memories. I don't think that would come close to describing how I felt holding her and kissing her for the briefest moment. I think I died for that.

I can still taste her on my lips and I wonder if I'll ever be able to taste anything else.

* * *

Snow began to fall a while ago, the hours passed have given it time to stick to the ground and the bitter air giving it more of a crunch-sound when you walk on it. I love fresh snow when nobody else has walked over it. I want Ashley to wake up soon, and not for the sole purpose that I miss her eyes, but because I want to ask her if she'll walk outside with me to make the first footprints. Both reasons are selfish but I can't help myself. Most things are better when you have someone standing next to you.

"Ash?" I whisper to the body that is mostly hidden by the covers. I don't get a response, so I try again. "Ashley," I drag her name out excitedly.

A low sigh emits from her throat.

"Wake up."

She pulls the covers closer to her body.

Looking over to the clock, I see that it is early, a red five-oh-two is shining back at me. The lights on the wall are still giving the room the glow that I love. I'll let her sleep longer, she could probably do with it. I make sure not to make much noise getting up off the bed and smile at doing just that. As soon as I'm standing, I take a last look at Ashley whose head is barely visible from underneath the covers, only down to her eyes can be seen. She has the cutest bed hair poking out and spread across her pillow.

Her arm stretches out to where my body usually rests and I hear her take in a slow breath. "Where are you going?" she asks me quietly, sounding very much like somebody who has only had five hours of sleep.

"I'm just going outside. Go back to sleep."

Her eyes are closed as she shakes her head. "Come back," she mumbles.

"I want to walk in the snow."

I said the magic words because her eyes shoot open. "It snowed?"

Her excitement is sweet and I smile slightly before pointing toward the window. "Take a look."

Surprisingly, Ashley doesn't look to the window, she's just looking at me and I'm just looking at her. I'm wishing I could get back into bed and hold her without it hurting me.

"I want to see it with you." She pushes the covers off herself and gets out of her warm bed. "Will you wait five minutes so I can get dressed and brush my teeth?"

I nod in compliance. "Of course, I'll just wait here." I shift my weight to the other foot, watching her run her fingers through her unruly hair.

After a second, Ashley points to her side of the bed. "It's warmer in there."

I take the hint and get back into bed just as she leaves the room. I let out a content sigh at how much I can smell her, how much I can smell her perfume from last night. The same perfume I breathed in before I kissed her.

I wonder how many kids are awake right now, listening for any sign of Santa and his reindeers. I was convinced I saw him sitting in our living room once, sipping the drink I had to fight Glen with to put out, angling it just right next to his plate of snacks. Wishful child-like thinking, I'm sure. I pass the time reliving last night, the feel of her heart, how it stopped for a second when my lips touched hers.

Ashley reappears minutes later and asks if I'm ready to go. I nod my confirmation before standing up and following her downstairs. She puts on a coat immediately and her gloves shortly after. "God, it's freezing," she whispers to me.

I nod understandingly, like it affects me, before I move to the front door and turn the lock quietly, something I learned how to do a long time ago except for several unfortunate occasions. "I don't want you fainting when you see the snow," I tease.

She smiles at me and runs her fingers through her hair. "I've only seen snow once."

"Really?" I ask, surprised.

She nods her confirmation. "Yeah, it was a long time ago."

I can't wait to throw a snowball at her. My hand pushes down on the handle and the door opens to give us the best view of the snow covered earth, the light-falling flakes adding to the mass already on the ground.

"Wow," breathes from her lips, her eyes scanning around.

"I know." I look around with her, taking noting of the winter air I can almost feel, the beautiful midnight-blue colour of the sky, and how the light from the streetlights are accentuating each slow-falling snowflake with its beam. "Come on, before people start waking up."

She puts her arm out gesturing for me to go first. "Angels first."

I smile and shake my head. "No, no. The living should go first."

"Spencer, just get outside."

I exit the house first with Ashley not far behind. The crunch and soft, barely-there squeak of the snow is sounding around us as we make the first footprints. Turning around, I notice her staring at the prints I've made with bright eyes, her teeth pressing into the side of her bottom lip. She looks happy.

Moving further across the snow and to the middle of the driveway, she stops again. "It feels so weird," Ashley comments, her feet pressing down harder but still looking like she's walking on ice. Or trying to impersonate a penguin. She looks adorable, regardless.

"You get used to it," I say. "I love the sound of snow."

Her feet press down into it. "You mean that?" she asks, referring to the crunch. "Yeah, it sounds pretty cool."

"No, close your eyes and just listen, you'll hear it." I close my eyes as soon as I see Ashley close hers and we listen to the snow together. It's one of the best sounds on earth. It's almost transcendent.

* * *

Soon after our eyes have re-opened, Ashley walks to the car next to her and reaches a hand out to touch the thick, white layer of snow stuck to the surface.

"You're definitely from California," I tease.

She turns around, raising her eyebrows. "What?"

"You were going to pick up snow with gloves on. Don't be such a girl."

She angles her jaw, staring back at me almost defiantly until she makes a show of holding her hand up and loosening the tips from each finger before removing the glove entirely. My eyebrows raise in response and I move my head forward a fraction, indicating for her to go on.

Ashley's eyes momentarily squeeze shut upon feeling the sub-zero temperature of snow. "It's fucking cold," she chuckles out.

"Cold snow? Really?"

She grabs a handful. "Don't think I'm mature enough not to throw this at you, Spencer."

"Don't think I don't know you well enough to know that you'll drop that any second."

Her expression is self-assured. "My hand isn't even cold anymore."

I count down from five and smile as she drops the snow, quickly squeezing her freezing hand with the warmer, gloved one.

I wait until she has her glove back on before I turn around, walking to the edge of the driveway and moving in front of the tiny wall. I hear her following as I sweep the frozen precipitation off the bricks.

"What are you doing?" Ashley asks.

Glancing back up, I see the streetlight next to me is illuminating the area perfectly for what I want to show her. Before I open my mouth, I notice her attention is on the snowflakes that are falling faster and heavier now, looking almost black -- almost like ashes -- as she raises her head to look toward the sky, her eyes blinking rapidly.

Not hearing my response, Ashley looks back to me a couple of seconds later.

I point to the wall and she moves closer as I take a precautionary step back. "Someone graffiti'd our wall?" she asks.

The corners of my lip turn upward. "I wrote that when I was a kid. This is where you spoke to me for the first time."

"No, that was in the house."

"No, it was out here," I state almost softly. "It was the first night I really began to acknowledge that I was dead. These strange people were in my house and they wouldn't listen to me, so I came out here and…" I slowly inhale and exhale deeply. "Eventually things started clicking and I began to remember memories I'd repressed or just…ignored. I was trying to remember the last time I saw my family, but I couldn't and I was feeling so empty and lonely, and then you came outside and just sat here with me…and for a second, I was okay."

"What did I say to you?" she asks gently.

I think back to the seeming insignificance of her words back on that early morning. "I introduced myself and a few seconds later, you said, 'hello to you, too' when you were looking down to that." I nod down toward the written 'Hi' before shrugging my shoulders. "It doesn't sound like much, I know, but it was the first time in so long that someone who wasn't dead spoke to me, even if it was done unintentionally."

A small frown appears on her forehead and as a result of a shiver from the cold, her exhalation is shaky. "Dead people…talk to you?"

She looks cute. I smile. "Sometimes, yeah."

Ashley looks around the street, her frown deepening. "Who? What do they say?" She looks back to me. "Are they nice to you?"

Her concern causes my smile to widen further. "You won't know a lot of them, but you know Mrs Banks?"

She looks confused and shakes her head.

"Uh, you know that old lady down the street who sits on her front porch in the afternoon and falls asleep within ten minutes?"

Ashley will remember her. We've seen her plenty of times on our way out somewhere.

Her eyes widen in alarm. "Mrs Banks is dead, _too_?"

"No." I shake my head, holding back a chuckle. "But her husband died a few years ago and I see him a lot. He sits with her on the porch sometimes."

"Is he nice to you?" she asks softly.

"Not as nice as you." I smile at the almost bashful look appearing on her face. "But yeah, he's nice."

"You know," Ashley starts as she looks over to me, her warm breath leaving her lips in a cloud. "The last time I saw snow was when I was eight and it was only from a window. I was sick on vacation so I couldn't leave the room. It sucked."

"That does suck," I agree. "I was sick on Christmas once. Stomach flu."

"Ouch."

I nod and she smiles before turning and walking away from me to make her own footprint trail on the sidewalk. When I'm sure she's not looking, I scoop up more than a handful of snow and mould it into a ball. I walk with it hidden by my side. "Totally. I didn't even have any turkey," I say, walking toward her.

"Oh no, not the turkey," she gasps out mockingly.

"Yeah," I drawl out. "The turkey is usually pretty awesome."

"It's okay, I guess," she shrugs. "Unless you're a vegetarian."

"You know what else is awesome?"

She turns her head a little to look at me. Her hair is wet from snow, her eyes are sparkling, and her cheeks are flushed from the cold. "What?"

My eyes are drawn to her pink nose and a smile reaches my lips before I know it. It's more than endearing. "Surprising people."

"Unless it's with whoopee cushions, agreed." She nods her point, also. "Walk with me?" she requests after a minute.

As soon as her back is turned away from me, I throw the snowball to the back of her head, forcing it forward a little. I cover up my laugh with a cough and rub at my nose as she turns around with her mouth hanging open. I point to myself. "Innocent."

She scoffs. "Oh, I doubt that."

My expression is playful. "I'm an angel, you said so."

"An evil angel."

"Oxymoron."

She gasps and holds her mouth open. "What did you call me?"

I want to kiss her again and I look away, knowing that if I stare at her any longer I won't be able to stop myself. I walk into the middle of the road and lie down, positive no cars are going to be driving up or down any time soon. It's usually around eleven a.m. people come or go to visit their family.

"What are you doing?" she asks quietly with softly chattering teeth, sounding like she's freezing.

"Making a snow angel."

"I've never made a snow angel."

I pat the space next to me, feeling the snow underneath my fingers. "Don't get too close, or we'll look like conjoined."

She nods like it's serious business and lies down on the snow covered road. Some people think this is lame, but I don't. I used to love making snow angels when I was little. It's just another thing I haven't grown out of.

I make my snow angel first and get lost thinking about what if my parents were still alive, what if I was still alive, would Ashley and I have ever met? Would we have given each other a second glance as we passed each other on the street, only to never meet again.

I turn my head to the side, causing my skin come into contact with the white powder. Ashley is watching me again. I shake my head and move my shoulders upward, making sure to keep my voice quiet when I ask, "What?" suddenly a little shy.

"You don't know how beautiful you are, do you?" she asks me quietly.

"I'm dead," I whisper the fact unnecessarily.

"You're still beautiful, Spencer."

My eyes smile for my lips because they almost get tired of smiling at her sometimes, it's all they seem to do. "Thank you," I say, getting one of her smouldering looks as a response. "For somebody who woke up half an hour ago and had five hours of sleep, you don't look too hideous either."

"Yeah, well, I had the best dreams."

I turn over to my side, propping my head up on my hand. "Really? What were they about?"

"You," leaves her lips with a cloud of warmth following it, both filling the otherwise cold and bitter air.

I don't ask her the exact details. She dreams of me, that's more than enough on its own.

"Do you want to go back inside soon?" she asks me.

"If you want to, sure."

"I want to give you your gift before my parents wake up."

"Okay," I say cheerfully as I get up from the road. My clothes, hair, and skin are dry. No form of precipitation affects me. Only my tears.

When Ashley stands up, she turns back around and looks down. To see if anything has fallen out of her pocket, I assume. It's only from that action I see her jeans are all wet from the snow. "Your ass is wet."

"Stop looking at my ass," she jokes lightly.

"But it's Christmas." I pout, also in jest.

We begin walking back to the house and when we reach the door she turns to me. "Wait in the living room, okay? I'll change and then bring your gift downstairs with me."

"Okay. Do you want me to make you some coffee or something while I wait?"

Ashley shakes her head. "That's okay, I'll just be a second."

She opens the door and allows me to walk in first. I head to the living room and sit down, hearing her attempt to be quiet walking upstairs. I reach down to switch the tree lights on and remember how mine always used to look, how one of us would always have to crawl underneath the tree a little to reach the switch to put them on.

The stairs creak again and I'm a little nervous for some unjustifiable reason.

Ashley opens the living room door and closes it behind her. She looks at me for a second until she switches on the main light and shields her eyes. It takes a little while to get used to it. "God, that thing could blind you."

"Aww." I put my head to the side a little. I notice my gift and, whatever it is, it's pretty big in size.

She sits next to me on the couch, making sure to stay a safe distance away from me. "Don't ask me where I got this from, okay?" she asks me softly.

"Why?"

She presses her lips together briefly. "Because you probably won't like my answer."

Ashley holds it out to me but I don't take it. "I'm kind of nervous," I admit.

"It won't explode or anything," she assures.

I take it from her and just hold it. "Is it a pair of slippers?"

She laughs at the absurdity. "Why do people ask what the gift is? It's so much quicker to open it."

I hold it up and shake it. "That doesn't sound like the Barbie I asked for," I tease.

"Spencer, just open it."

I smile at her and give her a look that says 'here goes nothing'. As soon as the paper is removed my smile drops, it drops so hard I think it fell through the floor. I can't speak, I can't even blink. I didn't think it would hurt this much and I didn't think I would ever be scared of this, I didn't think my eyes would eventually slam shut and I didn't think I'd ever shake like this. For a second I feel like I'm going to throw up but the feeling eventually passes.

"I'm sorry," Ashley apologises immediately. "Do you want me to -"

I shake my head to decline, already knowing what she was going to ask, and grip it tighter. I can't let go. I can't let go because I'm holding the last picture my family took together. I can't let go because I haven't seen their faces in over a year. I can't let go because this gift is _everything _to me. They're with me. They're back in this house and, just for a second, I can pretend they're alive.

I'm crying, I know I am. I can feel the tears on my face. "Where did you get this?" I ask, my voice breaking a little.

"I looked up your Aunt's address. I thought she would have a lot of your things and she had a lot of pictures, so I figured she wouldn't notice one missing. I was going to actually buy you something but nothing had your name written on it, you know? Nothing seemed right." She pauses unsurely. "We can go shopping in a few days if you want something else, too. Maybe we could go to Cleve-"

I shut her up with my second preferred method of choice by slipping my hand into her own and threading my fingers through hers, ignoring how half of my body is protesting at the action beyond belief. "You have no idea what this means to me," I say sincerely. God, she really has no idea.

Ashley squeezes my hand and looks down to them, studying them as they remain linked together. I'm thankful for that because my eyes have had to close through the pain. When my arm begins to tense up I re-open them and she looks torn between looking upset she has to let go, and looking reluctant to do so. Not a second later, Ashley releases hold of my hand and tells me that we'll find a way, somehow.

I hope so. I don't know how much longer I can stand this.


	19. Heavenly

**xxMaNdYxx -** Thank you :D

**lulubirdy -** *types this with one finger --the only non-broken bone in her body* Okay, okay, so, perhaps Popeye arms wasn't the _best _thing to say to you. Switch Popeye with Buffy. Is that better? Now you have strong arms without looking like an old, disgustingly-so muscled guy. Thaaank you. Aw, you did?! Well now I just take back every horrible thing I said to you (which, granted is only one, but still!). Tell your girl I'm very glad she's enjoying this :D. I should give you something in return for endorsing me. Perhaps another update?

**Miss Maclay -** You deserve it :P. Yes they would be able to see her footprints if they looked. Remember the beginning of the story when she kicked a rock and Ashley watched from the window? It's just like that with everybody else. Glad you liked the add-ins. I'll try and squeeze some more in before the story's end.

**War Myce -** Thank you :). Yes she does.

**crickett13 -** Ha, aw. You don't have long to wait till this will be finished. Two weeks, tops.

**Pendulum66 -** I'm glad you liked it :). Thanks for your feedback.

**AbsoluteGarbage -** :D Thank you.

**SD8105 -** Haha. You can do that anyway! Thank you very much. Yeah, I was editing it for posting and I had the scene in my head, so I threw it in there. Glad you liked it :). Don't apologise for not commenting, I don't mind. As long as people are reading and enjoying :).

**Conscious -** Well because I'm so nice, and because you're so not, how about we meet halfway? I'll call you "Crute"? Does that work for you? You're probably going to be difficult as usual. I'll have to see it to believe it!  
Ugh, yes. And really, after twenty years, it's getting OLD. "Oh my god, are you two _twins_?!" *shares inconspicuous 'not again' look with the twin* "Yes." *insert them gasping here* And then we have the "Do you fight a lot? Do you ever like the same people? Do you finish each other's sentences? Can you tell what the other is thinking right now? (and by that point, I can safely say YES) Do you like the same everything?" The weirdest question we have ever received was from this guy who was being entirely serious when he asked _us_, "How do you tell each other apart?" I asked if he meant how do _other people _tell us apart, but uh, no...he meant us.

And yes, I really do believe in more than one soulmate. I won't bore you with that, though ;).

**SSKCKSS -** *releases breath I didn't know I was holding* Thank you. It's cool, no worries :). I've only seen that film once but I liked it. Megan Fox is in it, so...yeah. Why's that? Election stuff? Were you pleased Mr O won?

**jazziejazz94 -** Good to hear. School is important. Your questions are going to be answered eventually, promise. :)

**XSamXStutterzX -** Thank you! :)

**SpashLuva -** There was indeed. You've already read and reviewed this on the forum, how are you neglecting it? :P I love that you still check in over here, though. Sorry if I didn't make that clear, no when she said merge, it was just meant so that when she walks with Ashley and for example, wears a scarf, nobody but Ashley will be able to see it. Like, nobody wil walk past and see a floating scarf :P. Thank you for your reviews, they're always great to read.

* * *

I'm sitting as close as I possibly can to Ashley. As close as I can without having to move back from the pain. The left side of my body is tingling, but I know that if I stay here it won't develop into something more. Our exchanged words haven't been about last night and I don't know if I should bring it up. I don't know if talking about it will take away some of the meaning, if all it was ever supposed to be was one perfect moment. A moment that words could potentially destroy.

As soon as eight a.m. rolls around I frown and wonder where Ashley's parents are. She's sitting down here with her coffee and pancakes I made for her -- chewing cutely-- and her parents are missing this, they're missing time with their daughter on the day you're supposed to spend with your children. I don't understand why they wouldn't want to spend time with her. I mean, she's nice to look at, absolutely hilarious, sweet, thoughtful, and she will do anything to make sure I'm smiling.

"Ash, why aren't your parents up?"

She blows on her coffee to cool it down some and steam erupts from the surface. "It's Christmas morning," she states.

"Exactly."

"They never get up before eleven."

I don't need to ask if she's kidding. "Do you want me to wake them up?"

Ashley leans forward and places her cup on the coffee table before leaning back and resting her head on the back of the couch to look at me. "No, I like being here with just you."

I don't tell her how much I dislike her parents and I don't tell her how I can't believe there are no gifts underneath the tree. I know my eyes are telling her that I like being here with just her, too. "What are you thinking?" I ask her gently.

"I'm thinking that I really want to dance with you."

She doesn't know how much I want to dance with her, too. "I'm sorry," is all I need to say.

"Don't be." She shakes her head briefly, her tongue running over her lips for a second. "I know you can't and I would never ask you to when I know how much it would hurt you."

"It's not just that," I admit. "I mean, that's the main reason, but I have two left feet when I dance. It's not pretty."

"Somehow, I doubt that."

"I swear to you. I could break bones. My feet have a mind of their own and they don't care if your freshly-pedicured toes are in the way." I like it when she smiles at me like this, how I can see it in her eyes just as much.

"I'll wear safety shoes."

I arch an eyebrow. "Oh, you'll need to. Trust me."

"Will you do something for me?"

We've been facing each other for a while now. I love being this close to her and I'm not sure if I want to move just yet, which is why I take my time in answering "sure" before I even know what it is.

"Come upstairs with me."

"Why? Are cold you cold in here? Because I can turn the heater up." I lift a finger in the direction of the foyer where the temperature dial is located.

"I'm never cold when I'm this close to you."

I don't say anything. I don't think anything that leaves my lips right now will be coherent, not with the way she's looking at me as well. Thankfully, she doesn't need me to. She stands first and lifts her mug from the table. I think she plans on going back to bed. Or perhaps she just doesn't want it to go cold. That's the more logical explanation.

Ashley climbs the staircase first and gently eases her bedroom door open to make as little noise as possible and closes it as soon as I'm safely inside. The lights on the wall don't look as pretty as they did last night, the early morning sunlight it taking away their magic. I switch them off.

When my eyes instinctively search for Ashley, I see her carefully placing her coffee mug down on the floor next to her bed. "Okay," she says before she turns around and pulls the curtains further open. She never closes them properly during the night because she knows how much I like to look at the stars. "Come 'ere," leaves her lips as she starts walking to the closet which is open.

I don't make any jokes about it. I just follow her and keep my eyes firmly trained on her body, all the while trying to remember to keep my hands off of her.

"In five seconds," Ashley begins as she turns around to face me. "I want you to look straight ahead."

I'm wondering if she's going to show me her collection of clothes from the nineties, or something equally as embarrassing.

Ashley leans forward but I don't see her actions because she's not looking at what she's doing, she's looking right at me and I can't look away from her. When she moves back, I count to five and look straight ahead.

I almost don't recognise the person staring back at me until it clicks that I'm in front of a mirror. I'm in front of a mirror and the girl staring back at me is myself. I haven't looked at my reflection since the last time I left the house alive. My eyes scan my face over and over looking for any signs of difference, but I can't find a single one. I haven't changed at all. I almost forgot what I looked like.

"Now do you believe me when I tell you that you're beautiful?" she asks me quietly.

I turn to face Ashley again and the urge to kiss her is almost overwhelming. Even on the coldest morning her eyes are warm. They're warm and they're looking at me like I'm the most interesting thing in the world. "Ashley, I want to…" I whisper and trail off, staring at her lips.

"I know," she assures me. "Wait here."

My chest feels tight with emotion. I'm so frustrated at this situation it's unreal. As soon as she appears in front of me again I can't tell if the tension grows or eases. My chest doesn't know what to do when Ashley lifts up a single white rose.

"Do you know what a white rose means?" she asks, looking at the flower and then to me.

"Roses have lots of meanings," I answer.

She nods in agreement. "That's true, but the white one is meant for you. Every symbol makes me think of you." She stops for a second when she sees me biting my lip and I swear for a second she's smiling. "Do you want me to tell you what it means?"

"Yeah," breathes from my lips.

"It means purity, and I think you're the purest person I've ever met and will ever meet. It means innocence, and that's what you're demeanour says to me. Reverence, because, well just because you're Spencer. Humility, because you really are the most modest person I've ever met." She smiles before looking intently at the flower and then back to me. "And the last one speaks for itself: Heavenly."

I watch as she brings the rose to her lips, placing a feather-light kiss to the top of it before she reaches forward and presses the flower to my own lips. "Thank you for scaring me that night," she whispers, lowering the rose to my hands.

She whispers and I envy her because all I can do is stand here. She whispers and all I want to do is cover my ears because what she just said is screaming to me. She whispers and it's scaring me. What _all _of this means is scaring me.

Ashley knows that she's more than welcome and that even though I'm scared, I wouldn't trade a second with her. My eyes started to fill a while ago, the cold air of the room cooling them. "You're not making this any easier," I whisper too, feeling like I have to.

"Neither are you," Ashley says, without malice.

"Why do you have to be perfect?" I ask her sadly. "Because you are, you're perfect."

"Not like you."

"Ashley," I start

"Come back to bed," she interrupts, walking over to her bed and pulling the covers back. I watch as she settles underneath the covers and takes a quick sip of her beverage. "You make the best coffee, Spence."

Testament to what I told Ashley earlier, my feet have a mind of their own and start walking over to the bed, easily sliding underneath the covers next to her. She moves back a little and rests her head on her arm, her eyes quickly coming to rest on my own. I'm torn whether to let her have today, or if it will only make things worse. We can't keep doing this because even though she hasn't said anything, I know it's hurting her as much as it's hurting me. I can't keep being this close to her without touching her and she certainly can't keep giving me roses and expect me not to kiss her.

It's beginning to get too much again. If she could only just be horrible to me and stop making me feel more alive than I ever felt when I was actually breathing through necessity, we wouldn't have this problem.

Or perhaps I should stop blaming her and take a look at myself. I'm the one who doesn't leave and save her from the hurt we both know is going to come; the hurt that is happening every single day.

I don't think she realises I can hear her crying every morning when she takes a shower and I don't think she could ever realise how much that hurts me. I don't want her to cry over me, not ever. I wonder if I give myself too much credit when I think that she would cry more if I wasn't around.

It makes my heart heavy when I think that if I wasn't here Ashley would be alone this morning with nobody to make her feel as special as I know she is. I draw my bottom lip inside my mouth and press down, something I do when I'm upset. I can't say anything today. She needs to have one perfect Christmas.

I also can't hear her crying this morning. It will be too much. "I'm going to take a walk now, so you can shower when I'm gone."

She draws her perfectly shaped eyebrows closer together as she shakes her head. "I don't want you to leave."

I nod in an understanding manner. "I'm always with you, you know that."

"I'll walk with you if you wait for me to shower."

I shake my head negatively. "I can't."

Looking into my eyes, she quickly figures it out. She knows why I can't stay. "Spence…it's not because of you."

I know she's lying, trying to make me feel better. I can feel so at peace when I'm around her, but then there are the times when my emotions can change in a second. All of a sudden I get so overwhelmed and tired. "I won't be long." I just need to breathe without it hurting for a second. I get out of bed and Ashley follows me.

"Don't run away again, Spencer. Did I do something wrong?"

"No." I'm frustrated and my voice conveys that. "You're not doing anything wrong, it's me. It's always me."

"Spence-"

"No, it's fine." I sigh. "I'll be back in a little while, I promise."

"The first thing you asked of me was to not be scared, and I'm asking you that right now. Please, don't be scared. You don't need to be."

I disagree. "I do. I do need to be scared and so do you."

"Why?"

"Because this goes way beyond the standard problems other couples have, Ashley. We can't even touch, not really. Do you know how much it hurts me when I touch you? And then to have to let go as soon as I do. I don't want you to think I'm not grateful for any of this because I _am_. Every night when I watch you dreaming I'm grateful, and every night when I watch you dreaming I want to hold you but I know I can't and it hurts me, Ashley. It hurts me so much and all you do is wake up and be perfect."

"Spencer."

"No." I stop any potential argument from her. "I'm sorry. I wanted you to have a perfect day and I wanted to do something stupid to make you smile. I wanted to try to make you feel how you make me feel every day. You won't ever know what you've done for me. Every time you look at me, I swear Ashley, I swear I can feel my heart beating again. I could swear that it's pounding, and then I realise that it hasn't beat in a long time and that it never, ever will."

Ashley steps forward a little, crying at my words. "My day has already been perfect. I know I've only been awake a few hours, but I woke up next to you and that's all I need, okay? You don't have to try to make me smile. Every time I see you trying not to blush, I smile. Every time I see your face or that shy look you have in your eyes sometimes. God, you don't have to _try_, it's effortless." She shifts her weight to her other foot and continues, "I won't pretend to understand how you feel when you get too close to me, but we just have to be patient, okay? I heard you, then I saw you, and the only thing left is what we're waiting for. I dream about it. I dream that I can hold your hand whenever I want and sometimes I think that I never want to wake up, but the colour of your eyes are never the right shade so I have to wake up to breathe again. When you can swear your heart is pounding, mine stops."

I don't know what to say, so I let her carry on, my own tears moistening my skin.

"And do _not _feed me crap about how you're not supposed to be here, because you are. I would have never been able to hear you otherwise. Did you know that when my parents told me we were moving they said I could choose which state we moved to?"

"I didn't know that."

"They did, and the first state I thought of was Ohio. We don't even know anybody here but there was just something about it, and that's you. You're my reason. When we started to get to know each other and before I even saw how beautiful you are, there was just something about you; how your voice could make me forget anyone and everything around me, and when I saw your eyes…." Ashley stops for a second to stare deeper into them, conveying her meaning. "God, I didn't want you to ever look away from me. I still don't."

"Ashley," I whisper brokenly. "It still doesn't change the facts: I'm dead and I'm stopping you from living, really living."

"What?" she furrows her eyebrows. "No. No, you're not. How can you even think that?"

"It's just what I can see."

Her head shakes. "Then take a closer look, because do I honestly look like somebody who isn't living? Do I look like someone who isn't experiencing _everything?_ I feel so safe when I'm with you and you look like you could barely snap a twig."

She's right about that, I'm not very strong.

"I don't care about what people say, okay? I never have. Who cares if they see me talking to the space next to me? If they opened their eyes a little more they'd see I was walking with everything any human being could ever hope to be. I swear to you that we just have to wait a little longer. Please stop trying to leave, because I need you with me. I need you with me and I really don't care how I sound when I say that, because it's the truth."

I don't want to leave, I just want it to stop hurting. I want Ashley to be completely aware of what we're getting ourselves into. She still needs to do one thing. Hearing about it is one thing, but seeing it for ourselves will be something else entirely. We need to go to the cemetery. "I think we both need to see something, Ashley."

"See what?"

"We need to go to the cemetery."

Her body language rejects those words instantly. "I don't want to. I can't see your grave, Spencer."

"I think you have to."

"Why?"

"When you see it there'll be nothing else to show to you. You'll know everything and you would have seen everything." I keep my voice gentle. "I'll be right there with you and I'll leave with you. That's a luxury most people don't know they have, you have to recognise that."

"I don't want to see it today, please don't ask me to do that."

I understand that she doesn't want to see it and I understand how hard it's going to be for her to see the grave of someone she cares about, but I still have to see three graves of people I spent my entire life loving. "If we don't go today then we have to go tomorrow. It's only going to get harder."

She nods quickly but briefly. "Tomorrow. We'll go tomorrow."

And I agree to that because I think we both need to prepare ourselves for it. I don't think I have the slightest clue what tomorrow is going to bring, except I have a feeling Ashley will need me to hold her.

And she knows that she won't even need to ask.


	20. Almost Lover

**burtonuk -** Thank you :). Dude, Luke Pickett is _amazing. _"Empty Corridors" was one of the main songs I listened to when writing this story.

**rocola -** Thank you so much. I couldn't possibly tell you. Well, I could...if you really wanted ;).

**xxMaNdYxx -** Thanks :)

**breathe4her -** Yooou, woman, make me blush. Thank you. :D

**Conscious -** What on earth are you talking about, you crazy child. I called you _crute_! Crazy slash Cute. That's a nice thing. Is it my fault you automatically think of "brute"? No. Did it make me chuckle? Yes :D. And what's all this babycakes business? Did I get a say in whether or not you get to call me that? Nope. I'm thinking I'll stick with crute for you. If you're absolutely against it, we could _maybe _change it. How about, caseous?

Haha, god, people really are stupid. I have NO idea why they do that. I mean, when it's so obvious you're twins. On my birthday this year me and my other half were buying booze, cause, well...yeah, and we were asked for ID (which I hate because I've been legal for two years now. Damn my baby face) and I didn't think to bring any with me but my sister did, so I was like "Just show her your ID" before this snotty, stuck-up lady came over and she just would NOT serve us because I didn't have any ID. It didn't totally suck though, I waited outside the store and she went back in to get served by someone else.

Yeah, same here. In my opinion, of course, there are many. They come in different forms, shapes, and sizes. Soulmate for me, doesn't always have to be in the romantic sense. Just the people you can connect with and share such a deep connection.  
I don't think that all soulmates stay in your life forever. Some are just meant to pass through your life to teach you an important lesson. Whether you realise it at the time doesn't matter.

**SSKICKSS -** What a relief to hear :D. *nods* I'm pleased he won, too. You can vote next time, right? Isn't there an election in four years? Or is that eight? And you know what I just realised? You didn't comment on the chapter. Well, at least now we have the "I" in your name. Ignorant. I'm mightily offended, clearly :P. Because of that, I won't be updating for three or four days next week.

P.S I am serious about the lack of updates next week, but that's not because of you :P. I'm just going away for a few days.

**NotxxWhatxxItxxSeems -** :P Well, it won't be too long until you see for yourself how this ends. Thanks for your feedback.

**jazziejazz94 -** No lol. Aw, that's great news about the scholarship. Everyone does that. It's pretty natural. I hated school but as soon as I left, I missed it. Well, not as SOON, there were definitely a few carefree months ;), but a year or so afterwards, I did miss highschool.

**AbsoluteGarbage -** Aww, did you? Are you feeling better today? I hope so.

**lulubirdy -** Well, considering those words were typed with the utmost sincerity, I have no choice but to accept graciously. We are definitely good. Just a few more days and I'll be able to breathe on my own :). I don't think I have nearly enough angsty moments in this fic, you're right. Maybe Ashley should have her hands chopped off, or something. Thanks for your feedback. :]

**XSamxStutterzx -** Yeah, it's going to be hard for them. I hope I do it at least a tiny bit of justice. I don't really like it when writers write about a sensitive subject and don't even try to capture the emotions. Thanks for your feedback, as always :].

* * *

We spent the day together. Ashley couldn't speak to me when her parents were around but I didn't mind; her eyes were saying enough. Her voice had said enough earlier in the morning. I'll hear those words forever. I'll believe them forever.

Ashley's parents didn't buy her anything, they just gave her a thick wad of cash and told her to buy what she wanted because they didn't know what she liked. She didn't seem fazed by it and I'm wondering if it's a regular occurrence in their family. I was surprised when Ashley asked Christine to go outside with her to talk. I'm not sure what was said but her mother handed her a small business card that was put directly into her pocket.

I want to know why Christine can be cold one minute and luke warm the next. I remember the night I scared Ashley and Christine assured her that it was just a dream and go back to sleep. I wonder why she can't always be like that. I wonder why it isn't instinctive for her to be like that.

When her parents weren't watching, I quickly put a Santa hat on Ashley and smiled when she didn't even attempt to remove it. She looked adorable. My hands were painful for about an hour afterward but it was a small price to pay.

They didn't have a traditional Christmas lunch or dinner that my family would have had, but maybe it was traditional for them. They did however, have champagne. Ashley raised her glass briefly and mumbled out, "Merry Christmas and all that jazz."

It wasn't long after that Ashley's father informed her that he would be going out shortly with her mother. He didn't invite Ashley. She didn't say anything, but I could tell by her eyes that she was disappointed; disappointed, but not surprised. I thought that if Ashley wasn't going to do something about it then I would. I walked around to table to stand behind Christine and I pulled on a lock of her hair twice, causing her to spin around and look behind her.

I was smiling as soon as I heard Ashley laugh and I smiled even wider when Christine asked her what was so funny and she just replied, "Angels."

When lunch was over she told me to wait downstairs and said she would come and get me in a little while. At first I thought I had some how upset her, then I thought maybe she was taking a nap. I blushed at my last thought. It wasn't any of them. I heard her talking but I couldn't hear what was being said, I could just hear her voice. I assumed she was on the phone but I didn't ask her about it.

* * *

I would ask her now but I don't want to break the comfortable silence we've had for the last twenty minutes. The lights on the wall are making her eyes sparkle again and I can't look away. I want to move over and be closer to her, I want to feel how warm and soft she is, I want to pretend the heartbeat I'm positive I will feel is my own. But I don't. I don't, because I can never really do much more than breathe when she looks into my eyes.

"I don't want to go tomorrow," Ashley says almost inaudibly.

"I know," I reply. And I really do. I swear I do.

She needs to see my grave because it's different than her not being able to see or hear me. The time she told me that she couldn't hear how I died because then it would be real is coming back into play. When she sees my tombstone she will see the proof; she'll see those two dates engraved into the marble and she will see the dash between those two dates, the dates where I had a heartbeat.

During that time I thought I had all the time in the world to do anything and everything that I wanted, I didn't think it would end almost before it even began. The silly thing is, everybody thinks that. They think that they have all the time in the world, but they don't. Everybody has time and it's never exactly how much you want, but it's there, you have it. Make the most of it.

"I don't think I can do it," she says.

"I'll be right there next to you, I promise." I try to soothe her fear away but her sad eyes are telling me it isn't working.

She hides them from me, she's holding them closed like she can't do anything but hide, running away from this harsh reality we're stuck in. Her teeth are pressing down on the right corner of her bottom lip and I just want her to stop hurting. I want her to be okay like she was this morning when we were laying in the snow. I want her to be okay like she was last night when I was holding her. I want her to know that it's okay to not be okay sometimes and that's when you need other people to be there for you, not hide away from them.

I lean over the side of the bed and switch the wall lights off, creating a darkness that surrounds us. A darkness that is really light because I don't think any room that has Ashley inside of it could ever be considered dark.

"What are you doing?" I hear her ask me. "I can barely see you."

I push myself back up. "Your eyes were closed."

"I can't fall asleep unless I know I'll be able to see you when I wake up."

"Are you tired?" I ask, already knowing her answer.

"I'm exhausted," she confesses.

I brush some of my blond hair away from my face and lean my head back onto my hand. "Let me hold you until you fall asleep."

"No, I won't hurt you again."

My body shifts closer to hers. "I don't want you to be sad anymore, Ashley. And I want to feel you again, I need to." I need to because right now I'm just as scared for tomorrow as she is.

"Spence, I don't know if you should."

But I do. I know that she needs me to hold her just as much as I need to feel her. I know that she'll be asleep before she knows it. "Turn around," I whisper to her.

She finds my eyes once again and I repeat for her to turn around, something she does as soon as the words leave my lips.

My arm pushes the top half of my body up a little and I watch as Ashley gets comfortable laying on her side facing away from me. I take second to brace myself, not only for the pain but for the feelings I'm certain I'll feel as I hold her; how I'm actually _allowed _to hold her. The mediocre girl from the mediocre neighbourhood gets to hold the girl from the city of angels. The girl who is more of an angel than I could ever hope to be.

I slide across the sheets and as soon as my body comes into contact with hers, Ashley releases a low sigh and if my teeth weren't clenched together hard enough to shatter every one of them, I would have sighed, too. I would have sighed because as much as this is hurting and as cliché as it could potentially sound, this is heaven.

As soon as she lifts herself up a little and moves back into my embrace, my hand snakes over her side and moves around to her stomach before coming to rest on top of the material covering her skin. The stomach which muscles contract and relax with every slight movement from me.

Her breaths are fast and short and I think that maybe she's beginning to get upset again. I pull her body even closer to my own and I clench my teeth even harder. For a second, I block out the pain I'm in and I concentrate on Ashley. She's crying, I know she is. I move my head that's resting on the same pillow as hers and I lower it to the crook of her neck, ignoring everything but her and how even though I can barely hear her breaths now, her heart is pounding.

I press my lips to her neck and kiss the skin underneath my lips, something that tells her it's all right without me actually having to say it because I'm certain I don't have a voice right now. Seconds later, she's asleep. She's asleep and as much as I don't want to, I let go.

The curtains are left open a little during the night, as they always are. The stars are bright shining down on us and I'm thinking of my father, wondering if what he said is really true, if he's watching me right now. I smile, just in case. Before I know it those stars fade out and the sun has taken their place, the sun that stays hidden for much longer at this time of year.

I watch Ashley wake up. I watch as I'm the first thing her eyes see, hoping she thinks of that as a good thing.

"Well good morning," I say, dragging out the last word. It's almost nine a.m.. She hasn't slept this late in I don't even remember how long.

She begins to smile but it falters. She remembers what today is. Her parents came home three hours ago so I know they won't be getting up any time soon. I move off the bed and stand, knowing that if I don't move now I never will. "I'm going to make you breakfast, okay? Take a shower and it'll be done."

Ashley sits up and runs a hand through her hair. "Okay," she replies. Her voice is much quieter than I'm used to.

I made Ashley pancakes. It was something I was sure she would like, but she's not eating them, she's just stabbing them with her fork and moving them around her plate over and over again. I don't think she realises she's doing it. "Ashley."

I snap her out of it, her movements cease instantly. "Hmm?"

"We should go."

"I haven't finished breakfast," she tries.

"I think you slaughtered it."

She rolls her eyes and puts her fork down.

"Are you ready now?" I ask again.

Ashley frowns noticeably. "Are you?" Her voice becomes harsher, "are you ready to look at your own grave?"

"No," I answer honestly. "I just think it's time to. I think there are lots of things people are never really ready to do, but they have to do them, regardless." When she looks away from me and lightly shakes her head, I sympathise with her. I understand why she thinks she can't do this. "What you said yesterday, Ashley, prove it. Prove that you can deal with whatever this is, really deal with it."

"You don't know how much you're asking of me right now."

"I do," I reply softly.

She stands. "Once. I'm doing this once, okay?"

Once is enough. Once is almost more than I could expect. "Once is all it will take."

"Sorry I snapped at you," is mumbled from her lips but I know the words are sincere.

"Forgiven."

* * *

Like the first time we walked together, Ashley barely takes her eyes off me as we make our way to the cemetery. It's something I'm grateful for. I need them to keep me sane. I didn't miss the way her pace slowed when I said that we were almost there and I didn't miss the deep breath she took. I would never even try to deny that my pace slowed considerably, also.

We reach the gates to the cemetery and Ashley stops for a second. I know she's just preparing herself. I want to reach across and rub her arm but I don't follow through. "The sooner we do this," I begin.

"I know," she cuts in softly, looking directly into my eyes.

I give her another few seconds before I push open the heavy gate and walk through first. I briefly wonder how many people have had to do this, how many trembling hands have had to push open this heavy gate and face their worst fears. "Come on," I say softly. There are a lot of people here for this time of the morning, most of them reading the cards on the freshly lain flowers. It isn't until they turn to look at me that I realise they're all dead.

I turn back to Ashley who has just passed the gate and I stay close to her, feeling somewhat intimidated and frightened.

"Don't be scared, okay? I'm with you," she says suddenly.

If it wasn't for the fact I was being stared at by at least fifty dead people I would smile at how the tables keep turning. I settle for just feeling safer even though I know she isn't referring to those people she can't see.

I know where the graves are. I saw them on the day of the funeral. It isn't something you can forget easily. They're the other side of this wall and up the path. I stop just as I get to the wall, turning around to face Ashley. "They're just around the corner."

The breath she breathes in is deep and shaky. "Okay."

I walk through the entrance to the farthest end of the cemetery and I don't see anybody reading cards, it's just Ashley and I. The ghosts have lost interest in me and look content reading their cards again. The cards that probably say how they're still loved and remembered, that they're missed every single day.

"What are you looking at?" Ashley asks me, unknowingly turning to look in the direction of those people.

"It doesn't matter, come on."

I think being here and finally having the courage to walk through that gate has been the hardest part. I think that seeing those graves is still going to hurt more than I could ever prepare myself for, but as long as the stars come out again tonight I know I'll be okay. I know exactly where to walk to but I don't look at my destination, my eyes are almost glued to the floor. When I stop walking and tear them away from the ground, Ashley staring at me, she's staring at me and my grave is right next to her. An old picture of mine is morbidly glued to the headstone.

"We're here," I say quietly, probably not needing to announce it.

Her eyes close and I understand. I understand because mine have to close, too. I don't think twice before I slip my hand into hers. I need this connection, I need to literally feel her and by the way her fingers thread through mine and the way she squeezes almost painfully, I think she needs to feel me, too.

Ashley releases a long shuddering breath which makes me look up first to see her eyes; her eyes that took one look at my grave and turned away, slamming shut. Her eyes that hot liquid is already filling and pushing out through the corners, ready to fall down her face.

I apply more pressure to her hand and she isn't aware that it's shaking with pain. I'm almost certain all she can concentrate on is my tombstone. "You did it," I manage to say. My words aren't very loud but I don't feel they need to be.

I don't miss how seeing her lips tremble is making me cry.

It's now or never, I tell myself before I lower my eyes to the row of four tombstones and feel my heart constrict and sink so much lower than my body is resting below. I'm not sure if I'm hurting Ashley with how hard I've started to squeeze her hand.

I turn away and close my eyes, too. I attempt to swallow the painful lump residing in my throat but doesn't happen. It didn't even help. I open my eyes again and lower them even farther to see that each grave is covered in beautiful flowers. None of them have a card. Mine has white roses.

I don't need to ask who paid for them, the light frost covering the petals tells me they've been here all night. The long phone call from yesterday tells me Ashley had to pay a lot extra to have those delivered on Christmas day.

My arm and hand hurt immensely but I couldn't pull away even if I tried.

"You did it," Ashley whispers to me, echoing my words from before. I know she isn't looking at me. She won't chance looking at my grave again.

I take a deep breath and look away from the flowers. I study each name engraved on marble and I think of their voices; the times they yelled at me and the times they made me cry when they were angry; the times they told me they loved me and dried my tears; the times they said words I'll never forget. The times I loved them so much I couldn't breathe.

I have to let go of Ashley's hand to walk to each grave and trace each name. I don't care what I look like when I press a kiss to the tops of three out of four tombstones and I don't say goodbye because that isn't what this is, and because I truly believe that if I attempted to speak nothing would come out.

I didn't realise I was crying until the wind picks up and tears cool against my face instantly.

As soon as I begin to walk away Ashley does, too. Her pace picks up quickly. She's in a hurry to leave and I really can't blame her. All eyes are on me when I rush after Ashley who has just passed the wall again. If this were a movie I would stop and ask them what they were all looking at, but because Ashley is more important, I don't. I simply rush past them, avoiding them almost as if they aren't there.

Ashley stops when she gets to the other side of the gate outside the cemetery. She slumps against it and she takes a sharp intake of breath before covering her mouth with her hand. Her eyes are closed once again but it barely helps to contain her tears.

"Ash," I address her gently, my voice is mostly trapped behind the lump in my throat. "Ashley, I'm right here." I put my hand on her wrist and squeeze, forcing down a gasp of pain. "I'm right here."

I almost tell her to look away from me when she opens her eyes and looks at me with her devastated brown eyes. But I don't, because I would never ask Ashley to look away from me. I know that she's shaking but I don't know if it's partially because the temperature has dropped. I don't ask her.

I remove my hand from her arm because I know this time she would be able to feel the violent tremors. "Let's go home, Ashley."

* * *

As soon as we reach the house and walk inside, Ashley heads straight into the kitchen and sits on the floor, leaning heavily against one of the cupboards. Her eyes are closed.

I walk further into the room and look down to her. "Why are you sitting there?"

"I don't know," leaves her lips, lacking emotion.

"I'm here," I insist with eyebrows that are drawn in concern. "I'm right in front of you." My eyes are drawn to her sharp jaw line that states her teeth are clenched together painfully. Her eyes won't open. "Nothing has changed, Ashley." As soon as the words leave my lips, I know they're untrue.

_Everything _has changed.

* * *

Hours later, she gets changed for bed at the same time she always does. She's been quiet since we got back, so quiet that if she didn't keep looking at me the way she was I would have thought she couldn't see me anymore.

Ashley doesn't have to speak a single word for me to feel how much she's hurting.

I switch the wall lights back on just as she walks back into the room and gets into bed. She doesn't turn away from me because she never faced me to begin with. I don't need to be asked to hold her.

Our bodies find the same position as last night: my hand on her stomach and my head coming to rest in the crook of her neck. I can hear her crying again and it makes my heart heavy to think about, the fact that it hurt her but she was willing to do something that was important to me.

Before I know it my lips are against her neck again and her breath hitches for a second, giving me the confidence to do it again. I can feel her pulse underneath my wandering lips, it's reacting how mine would be if I were in her position. When I press my lips to her skin again I could swear that I hear a quiet moan.

"I'm sorry," Ashley whispers.

"Why are you sorry?"

"Because I can't stop."

Before I have the chance to question her, Ashley's hand rests on top of mine, brushing over my skin for a second until she turns to face me and presses her body firmly against my own. Where it belongs.

My eyes close when she reaches up to my forehead and brushes some hair away from my eyes, leaving her fingers to come to rest on my cheek. They travel, brushing over the contours of my face and repeatedly brushing over my lips, my lips that are so desperate to feel hers again no matter how much it hurts.

I can feel Ashley's heartbeat again. I can feel it pounding like it's going to burst through her chest wall any second now. I know she wants to kiss me, and I know the only reason she isn't is because she doesn't want to hurt me.

I make the decision for her and close the distance between our lips. For just a second, neither of us moves, we savour the contact. Ashley's hand delicately holds the side of my face and I kiss her. I kiss her how I've needed to for so long but have never found the courage to, and she's kissing me back how I've needed her to for just as long.

We're getting louder and she kisses me harder when I moan softly into her mouth, unable to trap the sound in my throat. Her hands are trying to pull me closer and I'm crying again because she doesn't know how much I love this but how much it's hurting me and that I have to move soon.

I pull her closer, too, needing her to know how much I want and need to touch her. Feel her. The action causes one of my legs to slip between hers and her gasp causes me to still my actions. Just before I ask her if everything is okay, she arches into me and buries her head in my neck to muffle a moan. I carefully guide her head back up and seal my mouth over hers, needing to taste her again. Her tongue doesn't completely invade my mouth like the people I've kissed in the past. It's gentle and it's caring. She's kissing me how I always wanted to be kissed.

The sound of our lips moving against each other's and the sound of our sighs and moans are getting lost, all I can hear is a high-pitched ringing and feel the pain increase to a level it has never reached before.

Almost as if on cue, Ashley pulls away to draw in much needed deep breaths. My eyes are lidded and I know they're a much darker shade of blue than usual. I feel her swollen lips over my own again and they tremble, they tremble because I don't want to stop kissing her but I have to. She can feel their movements and draws back again, finally remembering that it hurts me. She knows we have to stop and her almost black eyes are telling me that it's okay, she understands.

* * *

I wait until Ashley falls asleep before I turn away from her and draw my legs up. Inside I'm screaming from how my body is reacting and I wonder if what we've just done is going to have any consequences.


	21. To Hell and Back

**Miss Maclay -** Don't apologise ;). One of my best friends live in Amsterdam. Haha, well...sometimes :P. You know, I've actually been asked that a lot lately. I'm toying with the idea but I'm really hesitant to begin this from the beginning in Ashley's POV. So my answer is an _almost_ "No", but not quite yet. I'll keep mulling it over. I never say never, so...

**xxMaNdYxx -** Thanks :]

**burtonuk -** Yes, absolutely. I like that song, too. Ha, yeah I know. That's a great song, too. Thank you :]

**wannabeo352 -** Thanks. I know it's kind of difficult to get into because they can't even touch, so thanks for reading even though they're frustrating as hell ;).

**jazziejazz94 -** Lol that won't happen :P. Thank you.

**hazedandconfused -** Well, then I'm honoured. Thank you very much, I'm glad you think so.

**rocola -** lol Seriously? If you say yes I will honestly PM you. You could just _try _and wait it out, though ;). It won't be too long till you find out! Aw, thank you. You're a peach :D

**shala24 -** And you're sweet. Thank you :).

**Dianelis -** Thanks! You'll have all your questions answered before this finishes, no worries.

**Goober37 -** You do? :D Good.

**NotxxWhatxxItxxSeems -** Not "almost" but the week after next, it should be. I'm going away on Tuesday so Monday's update will be the last for a few days. Probably until Thursday. Thanks, I'm glad you liked it.

**taymm15 -** Because the universe just sucks like that. Thanks a lot, I appreciate your feedback :).

**puckycutie2 -** Thanks! Will do.

**jay -** Aw, I'm sorry you were crying! Thank you very much :).

**DeadWitchReading -** Wow, I kind of don't know what to say. Firstly, thank you. Sincerely. A few people have asked me to write this story in Ashley's POV and I am _toying _with the idea, though I'm not completely sold on it yet. I can't help but think that Spencer's POV is what MAKES the story. I don't know, maybe sometime soon you'll see this written from Ashley's POV and really get a feel of how she felt during this. Yeah, I don't really like to read romance novels unless it has a large subplot of crime or horror, etc. Not all are terrible, but the majority I've read are cringeworthy. The story will more than likely be done sometime during the week after next. Thank you again for your feedback. It's some of the best I've recieved thus far.

**XSamXStutterzX -** Thank you. No, don't say sorry lol. "Wow" is a very big compliment, trust me.

**chrismarie -** Aw, thanks :D.

* * *

The longest it has ever taken for the physical pain to dissipate after Ashley and I come into contact has been ninety minutes. I've been crying for almost four hours so far.

I had to leave her bedroom when her arm shifted toward me. I made it downstairs and was relieved to not have to hold every pain-filled scream or sob inside. I couldn't stand anymore and felt the solid tiles of the kitchen floor underneath as my body came into contact with them. I stopped feeling my body shake a long time ago but I can see it, I can see my upturned hand shaking so hard and I can't move it to clench it, to stop it.

Every time I think it's finally getting better, it gets worse and my back arches off the floor. Most noises are caught in my throat to keep Ashley oblivious. As careful as I was trying to be, I don't think it was enough. I can hear footsteps upstairs and I know who they belong to. They belong to the one person who for once, I don't think I want see.

Though I know I'm on the floor, I still feel like I'm going to fall over. I feel like I'm on top of the biggest cliff and I've had far too much to drink. This entire situation feels like I'm on top of the biggest cliff and I've had far too much to drink.

Ashley is in the living room and it's only a matter of seconds before she walks to the kitchen. As soon as she walks through that door she's going to make things so much worse by trying to make them better. My head makes a dull sound when it reconnects with the tiles of the floor.

I know she's on her way in here, I can feel it. My eyes are crying because my body looks as though it's shaking harder. I don't see her eyes when she focuses them on my body on the floor because I close my own. I can't stand to see her seeing me like this.

I just hear her. I hear her drop to her knees next to me and I feel her hands gently turning my face to look at her. "Spencer," her voice is frantic and unsteady.

I don't think she knows what to do.

Even with my eyes closed I felt them roll back when her skin came into contact with mine. "Ash, it hurts," I admit and I know those words alarm her even further because she's crying.

"Tell me what to do. I don't, I don't know." Her hands move from my face and they're holding the hand that's closest to her, the one that won't stop shaking. She's squeezing it in the way people unconsciously do when they want to give you their strength. She's squeezing it in the way that's making this cold body weaker.

"My ears hurt," I whisper to her, still holding my eyes shut. I almost want to ask her if they're bleeding.

As soon as the words leave my lips she lets go of my hand and runs to the corner of the room where I know the phone is located and is back at my side before I know it. I can open my eyes now and I see her frowning at the handset.

"What the fuck is the number?!" she asks aloud with a deep frown.

I know what she's trying to think of and they can't help me. They need an actual body to work on if they're going to attempt to fix it. "They can't help me, remember?" is what I was trying to say, I'm not sure if the words which left my lips were as coherent.

Her hands are back on my face and her thumbs are trying to dry my face. "Please tell me what to do, Spence. I don't know how to help you," she says frantically, grasping at my shoulders and pulling my body onto her lap.

I don't have the strength to move away. "Stop touching me," I force out.

She looks torn. "I can't."

I close my eyes at her voice. "Ashley, please."

"Spencer…."

Something is going to happen, I just know it. Something that isn't going to be good for either of us. "You need to leave," I say as strongly as I can, which is no more than a whisper.

"No." She moves closer, pulling me tighter against her. "No, I'm not going to just leave you."

She brushes away more of my tears and leans down to kiss my face. The second her soft lips make contact with my skin I wince, involuntarily jerking my face away from her as if I've just had one side of my face blown off with a shotgun.

"You're making it worse," I whisper after a second, feeling my hot tears run down the side of my face. Her hands detach themselves from my skin but her body doesn't move. "Leave," I carry on in a whisper, barely managing to turn back to face her.

"_No_," she emphasises.

"Get away from me!" I scream at her. I didn't want to, but something is happening.

Ashley doesn't leave the kitchen but she does move away from me and everything stops. All the pain I felt for the past few hours has disappeared and my body relaxes. It relaxes so much I feel like I could fall right through the floor. I lie on the floor so limply that I can't even blink, I just lay there staring her in the eyes from across the room.

"Are you okay?" she asks me quickly upon seeing my body.

My mouth opens to say 'yes' until somehow everything comes back so much stronger than before. In my throat, I feel the stinging vibrations of my scream but I don't hear the sound leave my lips. Mere seconds later it's over again and I lie there on the floor, unmoving.

"Ashley?" I whisper, needing to hear her name and her voice. I'm scared.

"No, please, not again."

For a few, long seconds, I wait. "I think…I think it's over." I continue to lie still, almost afraid to move.

"Baby, I can't see you," Ashley says to me. I would say she was crying again but I don't believe she ever stopped.

I shake my head negatively. "Yes, you can."

"I can't," she reiterates.

"Yes, you can," I reply, firmer than the last time.

"No I can't!" she yells at me. "God." Her voice softens when she says, "I can't see you."

I sit up and push myself against the cupboard, afraid to move closer to Ashley in case I somehow make it worse. I wonder if it could possibly get any worse. "I'm still here. I'm not going anywhere," I tell her insistently, for both our benefits.

"You are."

"I'm not."

"It's getting worse, Spencer. When I touch you…I can barely pull away. And it's just getting harder. I can't stop touching you and you're fading away right in front of me."

"Don't say it like that."

"Why not?" She shrugs. "It's the truth, isn't it?"

"No," I stumble over my single-word reply.

"We're back to square one. It's nice to meet you, Casper," she says sardonically.

I frown at her choice of words. "Don't call me that. Just, shut up. I need to think." She called me baby, I realise. "You called me baby."

"I remember."

I lean my head back against the cupboard door and sigh heavily. I feel like shaking my fist to the gods and asking them why they keep doing this to me. Haven't I paid enough?

"Where are you?" she asks me quietly.

"I'm where you were sitting when we got home yesterday. In the corner." I lean forward a little, opening and closing the door, showing her exactly where I am.

She sits down a good distance from me and echoes my sigh. "What are we going to do?"

"I don't know yet." I answer truthfully. I just have to think for a second.

"There has to be something. This can't just happen…not to us."

I agree whole-heartedly. "There's got be a way."

I watch as her eyes close and her lips move. "I don't know what to do, Spence. I really don't know what to do anymore."

"Last night didn't just mean nothing, Ash. We just have to be patient like you told me."

"Last night is what did this, Spence," she raises her voice, not quite yelling. "When we were stupid and got carried away."

"We weren't stupid."

She's disbelieving. "We weren't? I can't see you and we weren't stupid?"

"I still wouldn't take it back."

"That's exactly why we're stupid. Because I wouldn't either and because even though I heard you screaming in pain, all I _still _want to do is kiss you. All I ever want to do is kiss you."

I need to think. There has to be a solution. There's always a solution. My voice is gentle when I say, "Go back to bed, Ashley."

She turns to look at me and she's almost looking at my eyes. Hers are wide in disbelief. "Are you kidding me?"

"I need to think. You're not helping."

"You honestly think I could sleep right now?"

I study her tired face. "You're exhausted. Don't even tell me you're not."

"I'm fine, Spencer."

"Go to bed. Please."

"No!" she yells this time, looking defiant. "I told you I'm not leaving you. I can't."

"Ashley," I start.

She shakes her head. "If you keep saying my name, I swear to god I'll kiss you again."

Part of me wants to say it again, but I don't. I don't say anything.

Ashley's eyebrows draw closer together when she doesn't hear my reply. "And I swear to god if you've left this room when I'm still talking to you…" her voice raises a little before she trails off.

At a time like this I should really slap myself for nearly smiling. "Cool your jets. I'm still here."

She visibly relaxes and slumps back against the wooden door of the cupboard. "Spence," she begins softly.

"What?" I ask in the same tone.

"What are we going to do?"

"We're going to be quiet and stop asking me questions that I don't know the answers to right now," I reply. My hand slides across the floor closer to her body and I retract it when I feel it reacting painfully . I just needed to see if that had changed. "Close your eyes," I ask of her. Her eyes close immediately and I carry on. "Think of me."

She nods after a second.

"Can you see me? Remember what I look like?"

Her head nods once more and it takes her a long time to re-open them. "If you see a light you better not walk towards it."

I know she's kidding. "If you don't shut up, I will."

I knew something like this was going to happen. As soon as Ashley and I stopped kissing last night I knew it would come with a price. A small part of me doesn't even care. Feeling her so close to me and how she kept trying to pull me even closer, the way the lights always make her eyes shimmer, the way she kissed me, it was all worth it on some level. I'm certain of it.

My head rests against the cupboard door again and we both sit here quietly. Both trying to find answers to questions we barely understand, from a situation that neither of us will ever fully understand. A situation that fails to be fair to either of us.

"I'll kick your ass if you walk towards it. I'll drag you back," I vaguely hear Ashley say.

"Ashley." My head shoots up. "Get up."

"Why?"

"Put on your coat." I'm already standing.

She looks to the space I was just occupying and arches an eyebrow. "To sit here with?"

"No, we're going out."

"You feel like taking a walk right now?"

I roll my eyes and hurry to grab her coat and re-enter the kitchen with it before throwing it to her. "Put it on and be quick." She looks confused as she puts an arm through a sleeve on her coat, I go and get her a scarf and throw that to her, too. "It's cold."

Ashley is standing now. "Spence, I really want to figure this out. Can't walking wait?"

"No." It really can't.

* * *

I'm practically running. I keep shouting for Ashley to hurry up when she tells me she's walking as fast as she can. I wait for her to catch up and we both round the corner together. "Oh my god," leaves her lips. "Why didn't I think of this?"

She knows where we are and what this could mean. "Wait here and close your eyes. In a minute, I want you to look again, okay? Look straight ahead."

They're already closed. "Okay."

I hurry to the spot not far away where Ashley first saw me and I sit down facing where she is standing with her eyes closed, probably praying this works. I'm praying, too. When I'm certain enough time has passed I tell Ashley to open her eyes.

"What if it doesn't work?"

"Open your eyes."

After drawing in a deep breath she opens them and looks to where I'm standing, where she first saw me. My heart sinks when her eyes are on my chest, she looks like she's trying to see me. "Have your boobs grown?" she asks me.

I look down to them and then back up, arching an eyebrow. "How could they have?"

Her eyes are on mine. "I don't know."

"Oh my god." It finally clicks and my mouth drops open for a second. "You idiot! I thought it didn't work."

She smiles and I do, too. Beyond relieved it's over and that her eyes are on mine again, that they won't look away. "You don't know what your eyes do to me, Spencer," she says gently.

"Probably something like what yours do to me," I respond honestly. From looking at them without having anything else to worry about right now, I can see that she really is exhausted. I begin walking over to her slowly. "Let's just go home. We can figure everything out tomorrow."

* * *

Like the first time we walked home together, Ashley didn't look away from me and when we got home she headed straight upstairs to her room with me walking first so she could see me.

I sit on the bed with one leg underneath me, watching her reach up for something at the top of her closet. My eyes stay on the stretch of skin visible from where her top has ridden up.

"I'll sleep on the floor tonight," she states, pulling out the blankets I used to rest with.

"It's your bed."

"I know."

"I won't kiss you, Ashley, if that's what you're worried about. Do you want me to promise?" I tease. It's almost all I can do.

She shakes her head. "I can't promise I won't, though. And I know that you're kind of kidding when you say that, but you can't joke around with this. What happened tonight…I can't not see you, Spencer. It was barely for thirty minutes and I was going insane."

"You were threatening me."

"I was going insane."

This isn't fair. She shouldn't be sleeping on the floor in her own house. "I'm sleeping on the floor," I try to say firmly.

She raises her eyebrow and throws a spare pillow on to the floor. "Nice try."

"Ashley."

I watch as she grips the blanket, looking down to avoid my eyes before she busies herself setting up her makeshift bed, laying it out on the floor. "You were screaming in pain tonight. There's no way you're going to sleep on this floor. Get into bed," she says the last three words gently.

My hand moves against her soft comforter. "I'll drool on your pillow," I say, knowing I won't.

She nearly smiles as she lies down on to the uncomfortable floor and moves her pillows around to a position most comfortable for her. "No, you won't."

"I could if I wanted to," I point out.

I leave the lights on again and this time I actually see her smile. Nearly fifteen minutes later, I hear her breathing begin to even out.

"Spence?"

"I'll still be here," I promise, not needing her to ask me.

"'night," she breathes out. It won't be long until the sun comes up.

"Goodnight," I reply. Waiting until I'm positive she's sleeping, I whisper, "baby."


	22. Temptation

**dangerflowers -** Thanks :].

**Dianelis -** Aw, thank you. Hope you like the next update.

**jay -** Thanks a lot :)

**xxMaNdYxx -** Thank you.

**rocola -** I'm totally going to leave the spoiler-PM :P. Only because I think it'll be much better if you're unaware when you read the outcome. Aw, you're sweet. Thank you. :D

**rather_be_reading -** You're amazing! Thank you so much for your review and all of those quotes and what they meant to you. Seriously. It must have taken forever and I really loved your "seasons" analogy. Hope you continue to like the upcoming chapters. Thanks again.

**Conscious -** Aw, don't apologise, I get it completely. Wow, three times a year? That...sucks majorly. Each time my twin leaves for America (she visits FLA sometimes) I always leave the airport feeling so empty with, like, a wet-with-tears face lol. You assume right! And I didddd tell you my name. Quite a few days ago. It was when you told me I sucked compared to snow. It's Gracie Lou Freebush. No, seriously, if we're gonna be friends, I _suppose_ you could call me Jo. Or, if you wanted to be all formal, you could call me Joanna. But I kind of prefer the former. You'll probably just be difficult. Or, you know, if Gracie Lou works for you... :P

Haha, I've done that with my twin before. We were sixteen and she was about to get served when I was like "Uh...but we're not old en-" And then she kicked me. We didn't get served. She made me pay for my own Pepsi :-/  
Yep, eighteen.  
Okay...that's cute. I can't believe idiots messaged you asking what you meant. You should have said some incestuous shit. A stupid question always deserves a stupid answer.  
No, they really can't. And you can't even express it properly, can you? It's more than words.

**SSKICKSS -** Even though it's every four years, the current president can be elected twice, right? So he runs for a total of eight years. Is that right?  
Okay, okay, we won't call you ignorant. How about "impish"? :D. Well, sure, I mean THREE comments by the same person...total restraining order material. Clearly only the resident serial killer stalker would do such a thing.

You won't even notice the story has gone ;).

**Sarah -** LOL You idiot. *picks up phone to call 999*

**XSamXStutterzX -** Aw, that was sweet. Thank you. This version of Ashley and Spencer hasn't left me alone in a year. I'm hoping the rewrite (cause this was posted elsewhere originally) will get it all out of my system. Thanks for your feedback and I hope you continue to enjoy this :). Even if it is frustrating :P.

**DeadWitchReading -** I think it was most likely your allergies ;). Aw, I'm glad you're looking forward to another one. When this is finished I'll be posting a short story of mine (10 chapters, I think it is) so I'm excited to see what you think of that. Thanks for your opinion on Ashley's POV :). And thank you for your feedback. It's always a treat to read.

**AbsoluteGarbage -** Aw, thank you!

**shala24 -** That's a huge compliment. Thanks :)

**War Myce -** :D Glad you thought so. Hope you like the upcoming chapter.

**jazziejazz94 -** Thaaank you :D.

**NotxxWhatxxItxxSeems -** Perhaps not, but if you decide to sue, I didn't agree to anything ;). Haha, very tempting indeed. I could certainly use just a little bit of that money. You probably won't know where it is if you're in the US (I'm from the UK) It's a place called Cambridge. I have family up there that I haven't seen in almost a year, so I'm just going up there to say hi and drop hints that I don't weird-smelling bath salts for Christmas :P. HA! Blame all you want, actually. Just as long as I get the neon sign!

**MissMaclay -** No, you're just in time, m'dear. I agree with you. I mean, I had/have a few scenes from Ashley's POV but it wouldn't be the same writing it from her point of view. IMO what made this special was Spencer's thoughts. Oh no, this was definitely always going to be written in Spencer's POV. I tried writing Ashley's POV in another story and I just can't do it. I'm such a Spencer girl. Thanks for your feedback and input as always. It's very appreciated :D.

Another big thank you to **rather_be_reading** for being awesome and quoting every chapter in her review. It was great to read. :)

* * *

Not resting next to Ashley this past week and a half has been much harder than I had anticipated. I thought it would just be for the one night, but she won't have it. She never wakes up when I pull the comforter off her bed and lie down on the floor next to her after hearing the wind pick up outside. The extra covers keep her warm.

When I know her sleep isn't deep enough to move next to her without disrupting it, I just move my pillow to the bottom of the bed and watch her. Not in a stalker way but more of a God-you're-beautiful kind of way.

I'm not in any kind of hurry to collapse on the kitchen floor again, but there are so many times I want to touch her, to feel her skin against my own. There are so many times my hand gravitates toward hers when we walk anywhere and the only reason I realise what I'm doing is because of the only reason I would ever stop.

It's Ashley's parents first day back to work after the Christmas break today and I would have felt sorry for them if I cared even just a little bit. They left her a list of things to do that she didn't look impressed by. I think it's mainly just chores. I'll help her. It's not like I have anything better to do.

The door to the living room opens and Ashley makes the edge of her rubber gloves snap back just prior to the moment my bright eyes catch hers. Her hair is up today and her exposed neck is tempting these lips more than I can say.

"Do you want a mask to go with that?" I ask her teasingly.

"Cute." She grins quickly. "Okay, tough choice to make. _Vacuuming_,or go looking for cobwebs with the, uh…the duster thing."

We don't have cobwebs in this house. "As thrilling as the 'duster thing' sounds, I'll vacuum."

"Can you really do that?"

"Yes, Ashley. I know how to use a vacuum."

"No." Her yellow rubber hand comes up in the air a little and waves it in the direction of the foyer. "I just meant that it's an electrical appliance. It won't react with you or anything, right?"

"I make you coffee every morning. I think we're safe."

She sits down heavily and rests her feet on the edge of the coffee table. "A coffee sounds awesome, thank you."

She hasn't even started yet! "Knock yourself out. I'll be busy."

Ashley pulls some sort of disappointed face and makes me smile as she gets back up from the chair. "Rules first: Under no circumstances will I have you go through the entire list and do most of it for me, crossing off what you've done so I don't do it as well, understood?" She arches an eyebrow at my smirk. "And there's no way I could _possibly _let you check the front lawn for dog sh-"

"Okay," I cut in, smiling despite myself. "I think I have the rules memorised," I say mockingly.

She points toward the kitchen. "I'll be in there or outside taking out the trash that smells wonderful."

"I'm sure I'll find you somehow."

As soon as she leaves the room, I shake my head, busying myself trying to untangle the cable attached to the vacuum, all the while aware I'm still faintly smiling.

Five minutes later I've finally got it untangled and proceed to complete the difficult task of pressing the power on button. When Glen was ever made to vacuum the living room, he always went around the furniture and the coffee table and was finished in less than two minutes. I take about ten. If you think that's a long time, you should meet my mother.

I was trying to watch a pivotal scene in a movie once when she decided to do some housework. I turned the volume up and sighed when she kept stepping in my line of view to the television, and my mouth dropped open when she accidentally unplugged the TV thinking that it was the vacuum plug.

I push one end of the coffee table out of the way with my foot and begin to push my other arm forward to clean underneath there when I hear the handle of the back door slam into the kitchen wall. Ashley bursts into the room before I can even switch the vacuum off.

"Move, move, move, move, move, move," she repeats.

I quickly move out of the way and Ashley takes over vacuuming just as Christine walks through the front door. The appliance is switched off for the time being. "Hi, Mom," she says, slightly

out of breath. She's still wearing her rubber gloves.

"Oh, hi Ashley."

"Hello," she replies in a formal voice that is unnatural for her. I chuckle lightly and scratch the side of my face.

Her mother looks confused. "Why are you wearing those gloves to vacuum?"

Ashley looks down to her yellow, rubber hands. "Multitasking is my middle name."

She's unimpressed. "Yes, I'm sure."

"Did you come home for a reason?"

Her tone is almost flippant when she replies. "Mail."

Ashley picks up the mail from underneath the table and flips through each piece. "You got the electric bill, which by the way, I'll apologise for right now. The phone bill, which I won't apologise for because I ordered pizza once, and a magazine. That's it."

I don't think anybody looks forward to the bills in January.

Christine tells Ashley that she has to go back to work and as soon as the car drives away I turn to face her. "Move?" I ask, arching an amused brow.

She smiles at my question. "I don't think 'Excuse me, Spencer, I see my mom getting out of her car, can you please stop vacuuming so she doesn't see it moving around the room by itself', would have worked quite as well."

* * *

Ashley took a shower after we finished the list Christine left her. She said cleaning always makes her feel gross. I told her I'd wait outside as soon as she re-entered her bedroom wearing only a towel. My eyes were captivated by a droplet of water running from her neck, down to a chest that was suddenly almost heaving,

And by outside, I meant it in the literal sense. I heard the front door open and close a couple of seconds ago, so when she suddenly sits down next to me, I don't jump. Her content sigh is breathed out into the bitter air, making it just that little bit warmer. Making _me _almost feel just that little bit warmer.

I love how she smells at any time of the day, but when she's just got out of the shower it's amazing. "You don't smell revolting," I say nicely.

"Please," she drawls out. "I still smell like bleach."

"No you don't," I disagree.

"I'll smell like bleach until I'm thirty."

I roll my eyes and they catch a woman who looks to be in her late fifties approaching Ashley and I. It only takes me a second to remember her. I haven't seen her in at least eight months. She's the only person who had actually spoken to me before Ashley came along. Mr Banks is usually the strong silent type. I wear a wide smile when she's in front of us.

My smile is mirrored by her. "Spencer Carlin, I haven't seen you in months. How have you been?"

"I've been all right, actually." I point a thumb in Ashley's direction. "She's really great for company."

Ashley looks completely bewildered. "Spencer?"

The woman, Sandra, sharply turns to face Ashley and stares intently, a frown creasing her forehead. She steps forward, leaning down so that her face is directly in front of Ashley's, trying to gain her attention.

"Boo," she says, darkly.

Oblivious, Ashley angles her neck more to catch my eyes which are on Sandra. "Spence?" she repeats. "Are you finally going crazy?" She arches an eyebrow. "Who are you talking to?"

"Um…"

Sandra straightens up and looks to me with wide eyes. "She can hear you."

I wear a tight-lipped smile and stand up, walking around to the other side of Sandra. Ashley's eyes follow me.

"She can _see _you."

Biting the corner of my bottom lip, I nod.

Sandra steps closer. "How?" leaves her lips urgently. Her head quickly shakes in bewilderment. "How did you _do _that?"

Ashley's eyes are full of mirth. "So, you admit you're finally going crazy? Can you say it again so I get that one on tape?"

Addressing the woman next to me, I shrug. "I don't know. It just…happened."

"You need to tell me how you did this, Spencer. I have to know."

Sandra died of a brain tumour two years ago. She died two days before her and her husband could re-new their wedding vows and I know how desperate she is to speak to him. I can feel her desperation to tell her children how proud she is of them and for them to hear.

I feel bad that I don't have an answer for her. "I don't know. Really, if I knew a way for you - for everyone - to be like this, then I would tell you. I swear."

Sandra turns back to face Ashley who is suddenly much more serious as her eyes catch my own. She stands up and moves closer to me. "Is someone bothering you?" she asks protectively, glancing around and repeatedly glaring.

"No, it's okay."

"Why don't you get lost?" she asks the car parked by the curb. Sandra is the other side of her.

"Ashley," I whine softly. "It's okay, nobody is bothering me."

Her tongue sticks in her cheek before she turns back to me. "Just so you know, I don't believe you."

Sandra is still watching us with amazement in her hazel eyes.

"Just…sit down."

Her eyes tell me she'll comply, but not before she moves, almost facing Sandra this time. "Whoever you are, -"

"Sit." I point to the wall, widening my eyes.

She sulks off, leaving me to face the woman who's body is as cold as mine. I pull an embarrassed face. "Sorry."

"No." Sandra's head shakes negatively and I see a small smile on her face. "That was…I don't think I have words for that."

"If I knew how it happened, I swear I'd tell you."

"I know, honey. I'm sorry If I gave Ashley reason to defend you."

Knowing how I would feel in her position, I shake my head. "No, really, I understand." To move to a lighter subject, I ask, "How are the kids?" .

Ashley's glare is fading but her eyes are steadfast on my body, making sure I'm not being threatened.

Sandra's face appears brighter instantly. She tells me they're doing wonderfully and that her eldest daughter has just graduated college. She had to stand during the ceremony, but she didn't care as long as she could see.

"Sorry again, Spencer," Sandra tells me after a short conversation. "But if you remember, or -"

"I'll make sure you know," I cut in insistently. "I promise."

She wears a kind smile when she gently nods. "I'll see you around." Her eyes glance to Ashley. "And I'm sure someone else will see you a hell of a lot more."

Chuckling softly, I turn to Ashley whose eyes were staring at my lips. After this afternoon, I realise how lucky I am compared to some people. Compared to Sandra. I turn to face her again. "Bye, I murmur softly to her retreating form. I wonder if I'll see her again any time soon.

Ashley is alarmed. "Bye?"

"I wasn't talking to you," I assure her.

Her shoulders relax noticeably. "Who were you talking to?"

"You mean, who were you about to throw down with?" I ask cheekily. She sends me a look. "She's a friend," I respond.

"A friend," she repeats before sucking her bottom lip into her mouth.

"Yes," I reply.

I count down from five. She keeps her eyes away from me. "A special friend?" she asks, trying to appear nonchalant.

"Aw," I coo.

Her head snaps around in my direction. "What?" she demands.

"You're jealous."

"I'm not jealous," she says before she turns away and smiles unconvincingly.

I shift around to face her easier. "Of course you're not."

"I'm _not_," she emphasises.

"Okay."

It's quiet for a few minutes and I smile to a baby across the street whose mother is trying to clean vomit off of her shirt.

"But if, hypothetically, I was in fact jealous," she air quotes, "then you should stop smiling like you were to women I can't see."

"Hypothetically," I echo, feeling smug. I can't believe someone like Ashley is jealous over someone like me and who I smile at.

"Of course."

I look down and smile before looking back up to her. "Well if hypothetically you were jealous, I'd think it was cute."

Ashley turns and faces me a little better. "I'm your only special…person, right?"

I have to laugh at the absurdity of her question. "Yes, Ashley."

* * *

Later when we retreat back inside the house, Ashley is in the kitchen when the phone rings. I pick it up without thinking. "Hello?" I answer cheerfully. As soon as the word leaves my lips, I open my mouth in shock. I quickly remember the caller won't have heard me and, shrugging, I hang up, telling Ashley the phone will probably ring again soon.

Seconds later, it rang again and Ashley picked it up. It was Raife asking why she didn't speak the first time and she told him the reception was just bad. He called to say he and Christine would be late home and to order in if she wanted to. Ashley seemed almost happy about it.

After making plans for her dinner and what movie we're going to watch, Ashley's hand idly gestures to the stairs. "Okay, I'm going upstairs to do…sit ups. So, if you hear me moaning or something, that's why."

I blush four different shades of red. "Ashley."

She laughs. "What? I'm being serious."

"Oh my god, shut up," I reply, willing my face to cool down.

"Do you want me to do it in here?"

"What? No!"

Her eyes are bright when she laughs again. "Spencer, I swear I'm just going to do sit ups," she says and pulls her top up a little before pointing at her perfectly taut stomach which my hands long to touch more than anything. "Look at them, they're almost non existent."

I roll my eyes, still feeling my face burn. "Whatever."

Her top is covering her skin again. "I've shown you mine," she starts with a playful expression.

I tilt my head and flip her the bird. I'd never say those words aloud to her. I don't even mean them and I laugh as soon as she does.

"Please," she says.

"Nope."

"I'm not asking you to get naked, I just want to see your stomach."

The mere thought of it is causing my stomach to believe I'm on a roller coaster. "My stomach is away on vacation, ask me again some other time," I reply.

She doesn't even say anything, she just looks at me in this way that literally makes me putty in her hands. Pressing my teeth into my bottom lip, I lift up the edge of the grey t-shirt I died in, the t-shirt I always have to wear, and show her the tiniest bit of skin before pulling it back down.

Her mouth drops open theatrically. "That's it? You pretty much saw my bra."

I didn't, but I admit to accidentally looking at her remove her top before bed last night and I admit to accidentally looking at her remove her top before bed the night before. And the night before that. I'm very accident-prone. "I'm not flashing you, Ashley."

"Yes, because what I really said was 'Spencer, show me your breasts'." Her eyes roll.

I shake my head at her and point to the floor. "Don't you have exercise to do?"

"You're not watching me get sweaty if I can't even see your stomach."

I don't know if it makes me a bad person that I gave in and held my top up for at least two minutes just so that I could watch her do crunches.


	23. Speeding Cars

**AN: For those who R&R'd quickly yesterday, in case you aren't aware, I changed the small scene with Sandra to a longer one. You may want to check it out. :)**

**War Myce - **Thank you :D. I thought everyone needed a breather between the heavier updates. :)

**xxMaNdYxx -** Thanks!

**MissMaclay -** Lol no :P. I didn't mean I wrote Ashley's POV for this story yet, I meant for another. TWWT was originally going to be from Ashley's POV but it wouldn't work so I had to do third person. I'm not sure if we have or not... oh well, it's no bother :). Glad you liked that part. I thought it showed a little of her insecurity, too. Haha, you blushed? Aw.

**Conscious -** Thought you'd like that one :P. Dude! Miss Congeniality is the shit. I watched it recently and I was laughing at Cheryl. She's such a dick. People have also called you a serial killer ;). I accept your apology, but only because I'm leaving for a few days and don't wish to part on bad terms. Not because I ACTUALLY forgive you for not noticing my name. I mean, it cut deep. It was only a drink :P. If it'd been, say, a car, then we would have had problems. When I need to, si. Mmm'yeah. I'm kinda noticing that. Gross indeed.

**jazziejazz94 -** Ha. I would be, too. Spencer has some serious self-control. Thanks for your feedback :]

**SSKICKSS -** Why thank you. Oh, I already have. We can always have one of the "S"'s stand for Senile instead of Slow. I'll let you decide that one because I'm in a lovely mood. Totally was always going to be Ashley who initiated the first real flirting. I can't imagine this version of Spencer being bold enough for that. And thank you :D. I'll talk to you in a few days, okay? Remember, no parties, no alcohol, no smoking, no drugs, no unprotected sex, no foul language, help old ladies to cross the street, wash behind your ears, go to bed before 1AM, do your homework, aaaand...I'm out.

(PS, good, because it's very likely I'll call you an idiot more than once :P)

**Movies7Too -** Thank you! Then here's to another smile.

**TutorGurl -** As I said in my PM, thanks for pointing that out. Honestly, I don't know why I'd never included that scene before because it's so obvious Spencer and Ashley are special. I don't know where my head's at sometimes. You'd really kill for Ashley's POV? Did you mean JUST for a chapter or for a whole fic? I mean, IF I did/ could write her point of view on this, I'd probably only post that on the forum. It's my writings' home and all. Regardless of your answer, I really will consider at least one chapter for Ashley. I still think Spencer's POV made this what it is, but I'm going away tomorrow and won't be online for a few days, so I'll see if I can come up with anything. Oh, and thanks for reviewing. I was wondering if you were reading this :).

**XSamXStutterzX -** Aw, thanks :D. Spencer's such a cutie sometimes. Glad you liked the chapter :]

**NotxxWhatxxItxxSeems -** HA! That was awesome. Thank you muchly, m'dear. lol Yeah, it sucks. Well, certainly not as pretty as California, but yes, it's lovely there. Okay, no, I take that back. It IS as pretty as California, just in different ways. Cambridge is beautiful. Google it :). Aw, don't worry! You'll get over it just fine. I can always post more of my work, though, imo, BoS is kind of better. I dunno, all my work is really different from each other. Thanks for your feedback :).

**DeadWitchReading -** You're really sweet and far too kind. Aw, really? Then, I say _thank you. _That's a huge compliment. I tend to stay far away from needless drama in my writing because it's always so forced for me to write and that's the worst kind of writing, imo. It's never any fun to write. Aw, thank you. I wrote most of this story last year. I'm just re-posting it on here as an edited/tweaked version. Hope you like this chapter :).

**Coachkimm -** I don't know, you're the judge for that. Keep reading and let me know ;). Thanks a lot, though. :]

**AbsoluteGarbage -** :D Thanks. No problem on the fast updates, and you're awesome for reviewing.

**popsyclegirl -** Thank you so much, really. Hope you enjoy the next chapter :).

**jay -** Thanks! :D

* * *

When I hear the wind picking up outside and feel the temperature of the room drop even cooler, I pick up the pillow I've been resting on for a while now, Ashley's pillow, the pillow that is still cold, and I carefully place it on the floor not far from her. I like pulling the covers off her bed every night to put over her as she sleeps on the floor. I like being able to keep her warm. She has a habit of always kicking some of the blankets off or having a limb out of them. I always make sure she has most of them so it's difficult for her to move her arms or legs outside.

I love being brought out of my thoughts when I catch her smiling faintly through the corner of my eye. I always have to make sure she's not going to do it again before I can look away because I'd never want to miss her smile.

Sometimes at night I have that thing, that thing where your eyes almost trick you into believing you're touching something. If I position myself just right, I can trace my finger over the air and it looks like I'm touching her. I repeatedly move it across her lips, and then her chin that sometimes I want to press the softest kiss to more than anything.

I want to have one arm draped over her stomach and rest my head on her chest so I can feel alive again. And the heartbeat I'll hear could be mine, just for a minute. I could pretend for just a minute. And maybe if miracles could happen, I'd fall asleep with her. Maybe I'd dream of us and everything I know we could be if things were different, and maybe I'd dream of my family and everything we were when things were different.

I want to actually be able to touch her hand if it's resting on top of the covers during a cold night. I want to rest my own hand over it or put it back under the covers, and I want the only reason for my lips to ever be cool is when they've been pressed against the cold skin of her hand that insists on torturing me by being so close to my own.

Even if sometimes she snaps at me and yells for no reason, I still want to get so close that all I breathe is her. Later, when she unnecessarily explains that she's due on her period and she didn't mean it, all I _still _want to do is get closer to her.

When I open my eyes and look back to Ashley, her eyes are open. I don't know how long she's been watching me think. All I do is stare back at her and eventually she gives in first, showing me a slow, sleepy smile.

"I've missed this," she tells me quietly, pausing for only a second, "sleeping and waking up next to you."

My hand props up my head so I can get a better look at her. "I'm always here, you know that."

She blinks tiredly and her speech is slower than usual. "I could seriously just move over right now and fall asleep on you."

"I know."

"No, I mean really."

"I know," I reiterate.

She settles into her white pillow. "I just dreamed about you."

I smile at that. "Yeah? What was I doing?"

Her voice is content when she replies, "You were dancing with me."

The tone of her warm voice almost gives me goosebumps. "I'll dance with you some day, Ash," I promise.

"You swear?" she asks.

And I do. "I swear."

Ashley's nod is gentle and I only just catch the movement. "Will you go to sleep for me?" she asks quietly.

My mouth barely opens when I stop. She knows I can't.

"Will you just pretend?" she almost whispers, holding unwavering eye-contact.

So I do. Facing her, I close my eyes and rest my head back against the cool pillow. I see her watching me almost as if my eyes aren't even held shut. I see her eyes watching my closed lids to check they're going to stay closed, I see them all over my face, I see them on my hair that's fallen over my ear, eyebrows, forehead, nose, chin, neck, and then finally I see them resting on my lips. I _feel _their steadfast stare on my lips almost as if her body had just leaned over and she heatedly pressed her own lips against mine without a care in the world.

With my eyes closed and visions of her kissing me, I suppose I really am dreaming.

It's a long time before Ashley again succumbs to sleep and is safely back inside her dreams, while I go back to wishing the nights would go faster so I don't have as much time to dwell on things. For the problems I try to push to the back of my mind fight their way to the front, to be the only thing I can think about. I feel like I'm going around in circles. I want to forget every single reason that is against us being together, but it's hard. Some days I'm content in just having her look at me, and some days I'm not. Some days I want so much more than that.

I feel like hitting my head off a brick wall to see if it knocks any sense into myself, to see if it helps me stick to a decision.

* * *

Christine and Raife have work an hour later today. They both have a meeting, I believe. They're sitting down to have breakfast at the table and Ashley is actually present.

"Ashley, could you pass me the milk?" her mother requests. The milk is less than an arms reach away from her. She could easily reach it herself.

Ashley leans right across the table to pick it up and places it directly next to her mother's hand. She doesn't get a 'thank you' in response. The milk is poured into her black coffee and then stirred. The spoon taps loudly against the rim of her mug before she sets it onto the table. "Ashley, can I ask you something?" she asks, not even look at her daughter.

"I'm not doing drugs, Mom."

She doesn't bat an eyelid. "You're going out with a potential client's son tomorrow night."

"That wasn't a question. And no, I'm not."

Her eyes finally settle on Ashley's face. "Why not? You didn't tell me about any plans."

"Because," she replies, busying herself with chewing on a piece of toast.

"Because?" she prompts, looking impatient.

"I'm seeing someone."

I'm stunned, but my mouth doesn't drop open. We haven't even discussed anything yet.

Christine stops sipping her drink. "Who?"

Ashley is dismissive when she replies, "Nobody you know."

"I need you to go out tomorrow night, Ashley. It's important."

"Not my problem. I'm not going."

And that was the end of that. Christine forcibly pushed her chair away from the table and poured her coffee down the sink. She left the house quickly and Raife followed soon after. Ashley made a noise of frustration and pushed herself away from the table, announcing she was going to take a shower and wouldn't be long.

It's put her in a less than pleasant mood and she's giving everything a dirty look. Even the microwave received a withering glare. I thought it was cute for the first couple of hours, but now I'd be lying if I said it wasn't starting to get to me. "Want me to make you some lunch?" I ask her, interrupting the constant taps to her knee.

She looks uninterested. "No."

"It's two p.m., you don't think you should eat something?"

"Nope."

"Forget what your mother said this morning. You said no. Isn't that the end of it?"

"She's trying to whore me out. 'Oh, yeah, hey, I have a daughter who wouldn't put up much of a fight if your son wanted to have a good time, just as long as you sign this contract here that will make me a little bit richer'. It sucks, Spence." She frowns in annoyance. "She really pissed me off."

"I'm sure she didn't mean it like that," I try, gently.

"If she didn't, then her communication skills need some serious work because I didn't hear an explanation."

"Maybe she just doesn't know how to talk to you," I suggest, just trying to make her feel better.

"Stop defending her. I know you hate her."

"I don't hate her, Ashley."

A small smile graces her face. "You do, and that's okay. Sometimes I do, too."

"I admit that I…strongly dislike her sometimes, but I don't hate her. I don't hate anybody."

Ashley turns to face me again and wears a serious expression on her face. "Seriously? There's not one person you hate?"

"There's no-one. It's kind of a waste of your time, you know. Everyone will see that someday."

* * *

Ashley's words from earlier are still plaguing my thoughts. I don't know how to bring it up and ask her about it. I don't want it to be a big deal, even though I know it is. It's a huge deal. We're in the kitchen and Ashley is threatening to poison Christine's next pot of coffee, and even though I know she's kidding, I don't smile. "We need to talk, Ashley."

"I was just kidding, Spence. You know there's no way rat poison alone could take out my mom."

"Earlier." I steady my breaths. "You said something earlier."

She smiles at me and I really wish she wouldn't right now. "I said a lot of things earlier. Are you fishing for compliments again?"

I wasn't talking about earlier when she suddenly blurted out that I have a cute nose. "No, I meant earlier. This morning with your mom," I clarify.

Her front teeth press down into the flesh of her bottom lip. "Ahh."

"So, um," I begin.

"So, what?"

I stay in my spot by the table and Ashley makes no attempt to move from her place near the door. "I just don't know if it was the right thing to say. I mean, it wasn't totally wrong. I just…" I trail off and sigh in frustration at not being able to voice any of my thoughts correctly without hurting her.

Her expression tells me she's confused. "You actually think I should go out with that guy?"

"Not him, no." I stop for a second, trying to keep everything straight in my head and not make things worse. "But, another guy…or another girl." I shrug gently. "You're not really easy to figure out with that."

I can't read her expression now. "You want me to go out on dates with other people?"

I'm just going to be honest with her. "Part of me does," I admit.

"I can't believe you just said that," she sneers.

"I'm just trying to be honest, Ashley," I reply softly.

"Oh, you are? Well, that's awesome. Thank you."

I walk a little closer to her. "Don't get sarcastic and defensive. You know I'm not trying to hurt you. I just…can't help but think sometimes that there's somebody better for you. I really can't offer you anything."

Her hands are clenched by her side. "I'm so sick of hearing that. I've told you before that you can."

I soften a little. "Ashley."

"Is it me?" she interrupts. "Am I not doing enough? Am I not telling you through every _single _action that you're what I want?"

"No, you are. You always do enough. But, are you telling me that you're willing to wait however long it's going to take for us to be able to touch?"

"Yes. God, you know I'll wait for that."

"What if it takes thirty years, then what?"

"Then nothing. I wait."

I can't help but think that she doesn't understand what she's saying, that she's being a little naïve. "You don't know what you're saying, Ashley. Never mind being intimate, I can't even hold your hand."

"I can wait! Why won't you believe me?!" she shouts irately, stepping forward a step.

That's the thing, I do believe her. I _know _she would wait. I'm just not sure what kind of person that would make me if I let her do that. "I do! I do believe you."

"Then _why_? Why do you keep doing this? Don't you think I should get a say in all of this when you willingly shoot me down? I _want _you. I've always wanted you."

I'm doing this because I don't want her to be dead when she's alive. She doesn't know what she would be giving up. "Because you need to ask yourself, would it be a real relationship? Say somebody else comes along who makes you happy and makes your heart stop, then what? You push them away because of me? Someone who nobody else can see, someone who can't even touch you, someone who doesn't even have a heartbeat?"

She barely looks affected, I know I've said those words to her before. As I have done once before, I silently apologise before opening my mouth. "Someone who they probably had to scrape off the road."

I know that worked. Her respiration has picked up in speed and her expression has hardened. "Shut the fuck up, Spencer."

She's never spoken to me like that before. I don't even care right now. "I wasn't wearing a seatbelt. I didn't like the restriction."

Her eyes close and her knuckles are turning white. Her breaths are getting deeper and faster. "Stop it."

"My window was down. I had my arm hanging out of it because I liked feeling the breeze. The truck slammed into my side of the car. It would have come off."

I'm telling her this because she needs to be shocked into reality. I don't want her to be waiting for something that might never happen, but the other half of me knows it would hurt me so much if I saw her with someone else. The other half of me knows it's hurting me so much to say these words to her

What I've just said has made her look like she's going to throw up. Her eyes are flashing with hurt and an anger I've never seen on her. She's looking at me like she hates me. Just like that, she turns around and heads for the front door. My eyes close for a second in frustration. "Ashley, stop. Don't leave." I walk after her. I need to explain.

Her legs move faster and she pulls the front door open harshly, slamming it shut with just as much force. It only takes me a second to reach the door and open it again. Ashley is walking away fast with her head held down. I don't know if her eyes are closed briefly in anger, or clouded with tears, but she's stepping into the road. The road which has a speeding car heading in her direction. The driver is on the phone and is looking away from the road.

Her name gets trapped in my throat and I don't register that my body has moved to hers until my hands connect firmly, painfully to her back and I shove her. I shove her so hard, getting her out of the way quickly.

I forgot about myself and before I can check that Ashley is all right, the car slams into me. I go up over the hood and the windscreen, over the top, and then trunk before being thrown to the floor. It's a couple of seconds before I come to a complete stop.

I didn't even feel it, but I'm still stunned because if I had waited a second longer to run after Ashley, _she _would be the one laying here and something tells me that she wouldn't be as pain free as I am right now. I'm stunned because I realise, once again, just how quickly everything can end. If I had carelessly stepped into the road myself without even knowing Ashley, it could have just as easily ended my life.

The car is nowhere in sight now. I didn't hear the sound of breaking glass and only Ashley hears or sees me. The driver is probably still on the phone, oblivious.

But Ashley isn't. She truly looks like everything she has eaten in the past twenty four hours is going to be covering the road. I hear her breath catching. "Oh god," is all she can say before I know she's crying. Her body is suddenly next to mine and her hands are hovering over my face, unsure whether to touch me or not. She's shaking. "Baby, are you okay?"

I close my eyes because it still hurts when she's close to me and re-open them as soon as I've released my disappointed sigh. "I'm fine, Ashley," I reply softly and begin to sit up.

Her voice is almost unrecognisable. "But…you just got -"

"There's not a scratch on me," I assure her.

Her tremors haven't stopped and her respiration is still rapid. "Spence, I think I'm going to be sick," comes her choked confession.

Ashley puts both of her shaking hands onto the road and pushes herself up to stumble a few steps away from me to the sidewalk before she falls to her knees and vomits. I hurry to get up and carefully hold her hair back, telling her that it's okay even if it's partially untrue.

* * *

When Ashley finished she went back into the house and went straight upstairs. I didn't follow her because she didn't ask me to and I knew she needed time alone. The few hours later when her father arrived home, he brought pizza with him and called Ashley downstairs. She didn't avoid my eyes at the table. In fact, they were set on me all the time she was eating. Attempting to eat, would be closer to the truth. She barely ate half a slice.

Whenever I was upset or when something terrible happened, take my Uncle being rushed to hospital for example, the whole family were waiting in the waiting room and all I wanted to do was get dinner. I was starving. I felt terrible.

Ashley quietly thanks her father for the pizza and gets up from the dinner table. I follow her after a minute and see her waiting on the stairs for me. Her head leans to the left. "Come on."

As soon as we get to her room she closes the door behind me and tells me to sit down. I walk over to the bed and sit at the bottom of it. Ashley joins me and sits at the top, leaning against a pillow. "I've been thinking, and you need to let me talk, don't interrupt me because this won't take long."

"Okay," I concede softly.

She sits Indian-style. "Who are you to tell me how to live my life? I don't mean that how it sounds. I'm not trying to be harsh. But if someone told me to do something I really didn't want to do, and something I knew was wrong, then I know you would tell me to do what I felt was right and that I was old enough to make my own decisions. I know you would, Spencer."

I nod mutely and remain quiet.

"I want you. It's that simple. I'm _making _it that simple. You're what I want and if I have to tell you every single day, then I will. But, please don't tell me how I should live my life. Don't you think that everybody deserves to live the way that makes them the happiest, regardless of what other people say? And you do that for me, you know? I really wasn't lying when I said you're all I can see. You're everywhere, you're even in my dreams." Ashley pauses for a minute and I just watch her. "I know that it isn't going to just end here. I know that sometimes we're both going to hate this more than we can bear, but I would rather have this than nothing."

I nod carefully.

Ashley isn't finished and continues to get everything off her chest, "I was trying to imagine it today, what it would be like if you weren't here, and you don't know what an ugly picture that would be. You don't know what I was like in LA. I hated everyone. They were so fake and I hated school with them so much, which is why I worked my ass off and got done a year early. I'm just…I'm better when you're with me, and I need you to stay. You need to stop being so harsh by saying things to try to change my view on this. I'm stubborn, so it won't work."

I sit there and take in everything she says, smiling faintly at some of her words. Her silence is my queue to speak. "I still mean everything I said, Ashley," I answer her gently.

"I do, too."

I look down for a minute and then back up. "You need to know that I don't like it when I feel as though you're putting your life on hold for me. It doesn't make me happy, Ash. It makes me feel like I'm such a terrible person."

She shakes her head in disagreement. "You're not terrible, you're perfect. And what about what I want, what about what makes me happy? I know on some level I make you happy, too. You don't smile at anyone else like you do for me. I watch you smile at people when they're not looking, and it's different."

Of course I smile differently to her. The fact that it's Ashley is the only reason I need. "You do make me happy, Ashley. Don't ever doubt that. It's just that I have a lot of time to think and, of course, I think about you and us, and I can't stop thinking of all the different ways this could go. I don't want it to seem like I'm playing games with you, because I swear I'm not. You _know _I would never do that to you."

I watch her eyes close at my frustrated face and sincere words. She takes a breath. "I know that, Spencer."

"What's wrong?" I ask her softly upon seeing her demeanour change.

"I'm so tired," she admits.

I sympathise with her. Today certainly hasn't been a walk in the park. "Then go to sleep," I suggest softly, beginning to move off the bed.

"No, not tired like that," she dismisses.

I shift back to my previous position. "What do you mean?"

"You got hit by a car today. You got hit by a car and there literally isn't a scratch on you."

There wouldn't be. It doesn't work like that. "I know."

"I didn't see it, but I heard it." She looks upset. "I can still hear it. It won't go away," she whispers as her eyes close briefly. "I haven't even said thank you."

"There's no need," I assure her. "I'd do anything for you." Ashley still doesn't look better, she looks like she's going to cry. I push my hand toward hers but remain careful. I keep my voice quiet yet strong. "You're everything to me, did you know that? You don't have to say thank you."

She nods but my attempt to make her feel better appears to have failed, her eyes are glistening with tears. "Spencer…."

My open expression is her cue to go on. I look at her and even though she isn't saying anything, she's still the most enthralling person I've ever met. My eyes almost feel like they're burning when Ashley looks directly into them. She's looking at me how I always want her to look at me.

"I love you."

She doesn't need to ask if I love her, too.


	24. Keep Myself Awake

**Movies7Too -** Thanks! Sorry, but I kind of can't answer that for you because that car was never intended to kill Ashley. I didn't really think about it.

**xxMaNdYxx -** Thanks! :D

**kia-johns32 -** Thank you so much, sincerely. I don't think I've ever inspired anyone to actually write before, so that's a huge compliment. I think every single writer out there can do better. Yeah, exactly everyone can always do better :). Thanks for your review!

**TutorGurl -** Mmm'yeah, I think it'd be the next one. Sorry it's all depressing. I'd have re-wrote it but...you know how much that would change the story. I haven't started the Ash POV yet because this week was hectic to say the least, but don't think I've forgotten about it!

**idrinktogetdrunk -** Aw, thank you. Hope you enjoy the rest of this story.

**DeadWitchReading -** Oh, absolutely. I couldn't not have Spencer oblivious to that fact. It had to be addressed. It was crucial. Aw, thank you, I'm glad you think so. Sorry for the wait in this chapter, I wasn't drawing it out, I was just away for a few days. Hope you continue to enjoy (and leave some of the best reviews) :).

**ev80 -** Aw, thank you very much. I hope, as the chapters progressed, you didn't think it was overdone at any point.

**AbsoluteGarbage -** Thank you :D.

**Conscious -** I should, but I won't. I'd take up far too much of my precious time :P. They're all very, very nasty anyway. Cute and hilarious wouldn't be in there. Nope. Seeing as you took the time to type out my name, yes, yes I can. You are entirely forgiven.

**SSKICKSS -** *nods* Most of them :P. I'm really sorry. It's...not awkward...well, it kinda is, we'll just go with awkward because I can't think of the right word to use, when people tell me they've experienced something I've wrote about and had _no_ experience in. I'm always like, "Shit, did I do that justice?" But yeah, I've seen those adverts. They always come on when I'm eating. I can never watch them even if I catch one when I'm not having lunch, or whatever. They just make me feel naseous and...no. Sorry if I brought back horrible memories. Are we good to hug again? Cause, well, I feel like I should hug you. *hugs*

Whatever, brat. I hope you broke an expensive vase, got an STD, passed out, got a lecture from your father, was grounded, went deaf, got slapped, and got more STDs.  
More than that, I hope you did have fun :P.  
I could NEVER give anybody a complex!

**weightofitall -** Aw, thank you so much. I'm so glad you're enjoying it! I adore new readers. I hope you continue to enjoy this :).

**lulubirdy -** You're back! Aw, don't worry about missing chapters, they're always here for when you've spent time with the wife, which is always more important. And thank you! I love that you're still liking this. Torturing people is the best part of posting!

**ev80 -** Thank you! When I was writing this, a few people said the same thing. They were like "Is this going end like Just Like Heaven or Ghost" but honestly, I'd never seen either before writing this, so I could never give them an answer because I didn't know. Thank you for saying that. I love readers who enjoy this but don't actually believe in ghosts. And merci for the feedback, I enjoyed reading it :).

**jay -** Thanks :].

**Midnights Fallen Angel -** lol Thank you. That would be pretty funny. I wouldn't have it as Aiden, though. I can't stand Mr Jockstrap, so you'll never see him mentioned in any of my fics. Oh...no, there was one mention of him in another, but he was the murder victim. But yeah, other than that, nope. Aiden-free writing. Just how I like it. Aww, I'm sorry! Thanks a lot, though. Ha, yeah, I know. It's weird. Silly abbreviations.

**popsycle girl -** Aw, did you? That's awesome, thank you. Sorry to say it, but there are only a couple of chapters left. We're drawing to a close with the next few.

**XSamXStutterzX -** Thank you!

**Risen2Fall -** Don't apologise. Really. Thank you! *blushes and bows*. So, so glad you enjoy this :D.

**jazziejazz94 -** Ha :P. Yeah, I think it was pretty obvious, too. I thought it was just a natural progression and it didn't feel at all forced when I was writing it for her. Thanks for your feedback.

**s0nFan16 -** lol Yeah? Well that's pretty awesome for a writer to hear, so thanks. Hope you did finally get to sleep, though ;).

**notintolabels29 -** Wow, in one night? Serious props to you. Thank you, I try :P.

* * *

Ashley stopped sleeping on the floor that night and I can't tell you how happy that made me. This bed is far too big without her in it. Any bed is too big without her in it. I didn't push my luck and hold her like I wanted to, but I moved closer to her as soon as she was asleep. I got close enough that I could almost feel her body heat. All I wanted to do was to wake her up with kisses but I couldn't because it was getting to the point where if I started, I wouldn't be able to stop. I'd block out the pain and something worse would happen, something worse than her not seeing me for half an hour.

I've been intimate with girls in the past but I've never wanted anybody as much as I want her. I've never wanted to see a body as much as I want to see hers. She moved a little closer during the night when I lifted my eyes to her closed lids and finally whispered that I loved her, too. I didn't pull away.

I didn't realise until the morning, but I rested with my leg hanging over the edge of the mattress for most of the night.

Ashley hasn't said it again yet, not verbally, she tells me through everything else. Yesterday she told me she would stay up all night with me tonight and I said I didn't believe her, that she wouldn't get past three a.m.. I was proved wrong. It's almost six now and she's hyped up on a pot of coffee. She's cute when she has far too much caffeine in her system. It seems to have the same effect vodka used to have on me because she's being very honest about how much she wants me.

If it were anybody else I might have thought it was tacky, but not with her. Ashley's words weren't crude, they were beautiful.

When she walks back into the room she announces that her urine was at least seventy-percent caffeine, she's sure of it. I pull a mildly disgusted face but I don't mean it. I find her adorable even if she's tapping a rapid beat onto the arm of the couch and won't keep still.

"God, I could stay awake forever, Spence," she says energetically.

I smile at her behaviour. "Uh-huh, tell me that in two hours when you come down from your high."

"I totally will." She continues tapping her fingers. "Why don't I ever see you yawn?"

"I don't need to sleep," I remind her.

"The other night," she starts.

"Hmm?" I prod gently

Her tapping ceases. "When I was watching you sleep…I don't know, I just really liked it. It was like, for an hour, we were just like every other couple in bed at night."

"Well…almost," leaves my lips in a slight mumble, my eyes boldly looking into hers.

"Yeah, almost," she agrees, trailing her eyes downward to rest on my lips.

Despite the fact she had to ask me to pretend to sleep those few nights ago, it's something I still try to do when she's already sleeping and I think of things I'm not supposed to be thinking about. Things that flush my cheeks without me feeling embarrassed.

"I still try to sleep sometimes. Doesn't work, though. It's just a habit." I give her a wry smile. "It's kind of annoying having your eyes open all the time."

I don't need to have my eyes open to see her face.

"I liked it."

I'll remember that for another time. "Do you want to go out?" I ask her.

She looks out of the window briefly to the street we live on. "And go where?"

"We could watch the sunrise, or hopscotch," I add on in jest.

Smiling, she rubs her hands down her thighs and they stop at her knees. "As thrilling as watching you bend over sounds, I'm going to opt for the sunrise."

"Are you sure about that?" I tease.

"Positive," she drawls. "Besides, I dropped my keys yesterday just to see you bend over."

I'm not stupid, I know exactly why she dropped her keys yesterday. I did the same thing when I dropped the newspaper. "Put your coat on," I tell her nicely, still trying not to smile at her admission. "It's cold."

"Jesus, it's freezing," Ashley complains as soon as the front door closes behind her.

"I told you it was cold."

I watch her try to drop a glove with stealth. "Spence, could you get that?" she asks, busying herself for a second by putting her hand inside the other glove.

My eyebrows raise and I chuckle at her expectant expression. "Keep dreaming."

She gawks at me. "I don't even get the privilege of seeing your gorgeous body bend over?"

Ashley looks hilarious and I roll my eyes before bending down to pick up her glove. She's grinning as I hand it back to her. "Here," I deadpan.

She draws in a deep breath. "It's a beautiful day."

Her smile is more than contagious. "I'm sure it is."

* * *

I take Ashley to where I always used to go whenever I needed to think or get away from things. It's the top of a hill in an area mostly enclosed by trees. It isn't a particularly large hill, but it was high enough to have the perfect view of a sunrise or sunset. The sky is such a perfect shade of midnight blue that I almost wished I had a camera. Ashley is leaning back on her elbows and I feel her eyes on my back as if she were dragging the warm pads of her fingers up and down my skin.

My head turns just slightly in her direction. "Sit up, you'll see it better."

She makes a noise of protest but sits up, regardless. I want her to forget that she'll hurt me and just lean her head on my shoulder, but all she does is look at me. She probably thinks I'm absorbed with the changing sky but how could I be when she's sitting next to me? I don't take my eyes away from the changing sky. "What?" I ask.

"Nothing," she replies quietly. "I just really want to kiss your face. You look cute."

Going against my earlier thoughts, I face her. "Then do it."

She looks uncertain. "Are you sure?"

I nod positively and turn back to face ahead. "Don't be too long, okay?"

The top half of her body leans to the side of me and my stomach flips for two completely different reasons. When her lips press against the side of my face I close my eyes and smile, leaning into her. Disregarding but aware of the sudden agony, I nearly listen for the loud shriek of the firework I'm almost sure went off against my face the same time her lips touched my skin.

I don't pull away from her when she lowers her lips to the side of my mouth. My head turns to be able to kiss her when she draws back.

"I want to, I swear I do." Her voice is different, thicker. "But we can't."

I sigh, disappointed. "I know."

We missed most of the sunrise because Ashley began to tell me about what she was like as a little girl. I would have loved to have known her then. I would have stolen some of Glen's hidden stash of water bombs and launched an attack at her. We started to walk home ten minutes ago and Ashley is slowly but surely coming down from her caffeine and sugar high. "Carry me home, Spence."

"Nope." I point a finger at her. "I told you you'd be crashing in a couple of hours," I gloat.

"It's been an hour. Technically, I was right," she challenges back.

I marvel at how flawless her skin looks in the early morning light. "I'm still not carrying you home."

Her lips twitch to keep from showing a small smile that I know wants to break free. "You would if you loved me."

"I d-"

I only stop because Erin walks around the corner and literally bumps into Ashley, sending her back a couple of steps.

"I'm so sorry. I never look where I'm going," Erin is quick to say.

It's so good to see her again and I'm already smiling as though she could see me. She's hardly changed since the last time I saw her; still the same curly brown hair on top of her head. Her eyes are still the same dark shade of green they've always been and her voice is still the comforting voice of one of my best friends.

"It's cool, don't worry about it," Ashley assures her.

Ashley moves to carry on walking with me but Erin stops her with her voice. "Hey, uh, aren't you the one that moved to Kenwood Avenue a few months ago? To the house with the cute little wall out front."

Erin is standing right next to me.

"Yeah," Ashley replies, sounding a little confused. "Why?"

"Uh, I knew someone who used to live there, that's all…" Erin trails off, clearly not wanting to elaborate.

That gets Ashley's attention immediately. "You knew Spencer?"

Erin looks surprised. "How do you know about Spence?"

I want to tell them that I'm standing right here and they don't have to talk about me like this but then I remember only Ashley will hear me. After all this time, I still slip up and forget.

"Oh, uh," she struggles for a cover up. "I heard things around, you know?"

Erin accepts that, nodding slightly. "Which room do you have, the one at the back or the one at the front?"

"Front," Ashley replies.

Erin nods and shifts her weight to the other foot, leaning closer to me ever so slightly. I know she's reliving old memories. "Um, I don't know your name, I'm sorry. But, is it all right if I ask you something?

"It's Ashley, and yeah, sure, ask away."

Erin looks a little flustered. "Do you ever, like…"

"Do I ever, what?"

"Do you ever hear anything in the house? Any weird noises during the night?"

Very briefly, Ashley's eyes widen and subtly glance over in my direction. "Uh…I don't know." She shrugs gently. "Why?"

"It's just, my best friend used to live in that house and last year she…" Her head shakes softly, as if she still can't believe it. "And a month or so after, when I was walking home from school, I swear I saw her by the road. It wasn't even for a second, but I know I saw her. I know she was there. And I know I've never seen her looking so lost."

Ashley looks like she doesn't know what to say. She looks like she wants to tell her something but doesn't know how much to share.

Erin sighs softly. "I'm sorry, I don't even know you and I don't know if you believe in all that stuff."

"Until I moved here, I didn't."

"You saw someone?"

"Yeah, I see…my grandma a lot," she bends the truth.

Erin pulls a sympathetic face. "I'm sorry."

"Thanks. But…if Spencer is still around, I'm sure she appreciates the fact you still think about her."

"She's been my best friend ever since I can remember, her not being here doesn't change that. She's still the crazy bitch who put up with an even crazier bitch." A soft, almost remembering smile is on her face.

I still remember the time in fifth grade when I introduced her to one of the new kids as 'my stud muffin'. That morning, I'd heard my mother say it to my father and when I asked what it meant, my mother said, "It means he's my best friend in the whole world".

As soon as Erin burst into laughter, I knew something was up. I found out that same day it wasn't the correct definition of the word.

I still remember the time she beat up some of the scariest sixth-graders because they stole my lunch money.

I catch Ashley's eyes. "Tell her you're sure I'm okay."

"I'm sure Spencer's okay."

Erin nods softly. "I hope so."

"What was she like?" Ashley asks softly. "Spencer, when she was…"

Her green eyes get brighter. "She was the shit."

Ashley chuckles. "Oh, yeah?"

"Totally. No-one will ever outshine my stud muffin."

I laugh, both at our inside joke she still remembers, and the look on Ashley's face.

Erin's arm is so close to mine as she reaches for something in her pocket. "So, I should get going. Thanks for the…sort of strange conversation and I'm still really sorry for running into you."

"No problem, it was nice to meet you," Ashley replies warmly. I think she added that on just for me.

"Yeah, you too," Erin answers her.

Soon after saying that, Erin continues walking. She always used to get up insanely early before school so she could take a walk. My thoughts about how she woke me up one morning at five a.m. just to walk around halt and my heart breaks all over again with a devastating realisation.

Ashley moves her head to catch my eyes that are lowering to the floor. "Hey, where'd you go?"

"Nowhere," I answer, being a little short with her.

"Your face kind of contradicts that, Spence." Her voice is soft. "Tell me what's up," she says, stepping a fraction closer. It makes my eyes close.

"I just miss her," I cover up the truth somewhat.

"I'm sorry," she offers gently. "Do you want to talk about it?"

No, I really don't. Not yet. "It's okay," I reply quietly and begin moving my legs forward, Ashley follows.

I don't plan to speak to Ashley the entire walk home. I can't. If I open my mouth, all that will escape is hurt.

* * *

As soon as we got home the shower in her parents room was running so we went to Ashley's room for privacy. She didn't ask me to leave the room while she undressed and I didn't offer to. I look on, unabashed, and memorise every patch of skin my eyes scan over.

She knows I'm watching and I know that if she was the one watching me remove my clothes, my skin would be on fire. Her hands are slow to reach around to unhook her bra and my eyes are set intently on the skin of her back. How smooth it looks, how soft. Material is eventually pulled over her head to obscure my view, at least for now.

When Ashley turns around I can tell that her eyes are darker even from over here. She moves to the bed and gets underneath the covers. "I'm not going to fall asleep, I just want to be warm and wait for my parents to go to work."

She doesn't fool me. Everybody knows that when you've been up all night and get into a warm bed, you'll eventually drop off to sleep.

"Spence," she calls from my lack of a reply.

"I'm sorry," I tell her, though not for that reason.

"Don't be sorry, get in here with me," she requests and pulls my side of the covers up and scoots back a little to allow room for my small body. As soon as I get in, she throws the covers back over me. "So, how long did you know that girl?" she attempts to start a conversation.

"Erin? Since I was two," my voice is quiet as I answer her question.

"Wow, long time."

"Very long," I agree.

"Were you ever more than just friends?" she asks, her tone doesn't contain jealousy, just curiosity.

"No. Erin is really, really straight." I almost smile when I think of the time she was describing in far too much detail her first time having sex with her boyfriend. She told me that she had never been so sore and that she hated him, she was never having sex again. We both laughed and she changed her mind a week later. Looking back, I don't know why I never told her about myself. I really don't think she would have had a problem with it. She never had a problem with the few gay people who used to live in town.

I think she wanted to ask me, once. I'd been spending every free minute with my first girlfriend and neglecting Erin, so when she called me out on it, I spent my entire weekend with her catching up. I remember how I flushed red when she suddenly asked if I 'had' anybody. I could only mumble a no. I felt terrible, but I was terrified. I didn't want to lose her.

Ashley's hand moves toward me a fraction, "You should hang out with her if you miss her. Just spend time with her, you don't have to talk."

I focus my eyes on hers once again. "I might," I answer non committal, not really wanting to talk about Erin much more at this particular moment.

"And then you'll completely forget about me," she says dramatically.

I manage a faint smile. "I could never forget you. I'd remember you even I never met you."

"Me too," she replies warmly. I clench my fist underneath the covers to keep my emotions in check and try to make my face appear as though everything is as fine as is it can be. "You don't look happy, Spence," she says uneasily.

"I'm fine," I answer her, barely audible. It sounded pathetic even to my own ears.

"You're not fine, something's wrong," she keeps her tone gentle.

My eyes close on their own accord because saying something is wrong is the biggest understatement of the year. My voice is unsteady but I don't care. "Ashley, will you just…" my voice drops to below a whisper.

"Will I, what?"

"Will you hold me? Just for a little while?" I ask desperately as I open my eyes.

Ashley looks torn. "Don't you think that's a bad idea?"

My head shakes the negative but I don't even know if I mean it. "I don't care."

"I want to, you know I do. But I don't want to hurt you," she says.

"Please," I practically beg of her.

Ashley looks into my eyes and she knows how much I need this, how much I need to feel safe with her arms around me. I move toward her and lower half of my body against hers, my head finding a perfect resting spot on her chest. Her heart is beating rapidly underneath my ears and her small arms wrap around my equally small body the same time as one of my arms go across her stomach, keeping her close to me. Seconds later, and I'm already starting to tremble through the pain but I push past it. I'm beyond caring.

Ashley's view seems to be the opposite because her arms pull away from my body, leaving it to almost feel cold. "You're shaking. We can't do this yet."

I pull one of them back around my body. "Put the other arm back, I don't care," my voice is thicker, needier.

Her eyebrows draw closer together in concern. "I don't think this is a good idea. I want this, but not if it's going to hurt you," she tells me adamantly.

My body is tensing up but I ignore it. I ignore everything that isn't Ashley. "I said hold me," I repeat firmly.

"Spence," she begins, sounding firm.

"Ash, please," I beg again, not caring in the least that I'm crying in front of her.

I don't have to ask her again. The arms I need to feel go back around my body and conversation doesn't flow, she just holds me as I cry. I cry for two reasons, but for once the main reason isn't because of the pain. Erin stood next to me, right next to me.

And I didn't feel a thing.


	25. Breathe Into Me

**popsycle girl -** It's just as bittersweet for me to post. On one hand, I love to see everybody's reactions, but on the other, I kind of don't want this to end. Thanks for your lovely review, as always. It's much appreciated :).

**notintolabel29 -** You're sweet :P. Thank you, I'm really glad you like it.

**lexj -** Thank you. I hope I answer everything in this update, if not, feel free to ask me anything I've been unclear on.

**NotxxWhatxxItxxSeems -** No, don't cry! What's better than a ghetto sign? Not many things, my friend. Besides a migraine all week, Cambridge was awesome. One of the things I love about being there is the accent. It's really, really cute. You should totally visit! Make sure to take your camera with you, not to look like a tourist, but because it generally is a really cool place with tons of cool people. And you'll almost feel at home, there's two Starbucks' :P. It's kind of a rare thing in England. At least for me. I'm not so much city girl. I'm all safe in the country. I will, I will! As soon as this is done (couple more chapters), I'll post a short (nine or ten chapters) story I wrote a few months ago. It's completely different from this, but a lot of fun to write. Then I'll decide what else to post :P. And thank you, you're a peach. It's good to be back, I did miss the regular interraction with you guys.

**xxMaNdYxx -** Thanks :]

**Goober37 -** Aw, sorry!

**MissMaclay -** Yup, it was the road. I'm glad you liked that :). And I'm glad you like Erin! I hope you had drag Anthony Head dreams the other night :P. I confess to thinking about it before I went to sleep. *hangs head in shame* But! It was partly your fault, if not TOTALLY. I mean, you sent me the link and all ;).

**dangerflowers -** Thank you.

**Movies7Too -** At that point, no. Later on in the story? Yes. Glad you liked the update :). I really don't want to spoil it. This will be finished in three chapters. Including this one.

**XSamXStutterzX **- Sorry for not being clear, it just meant that she doesn't feel pain when Erin is close to her, unlike Ashley. Spencer realised it's just a curse between her and Ashley. Aw, thank you very much :D.

**SpashLuva -** Thank you, I thought that scene was very much needed. It's lots of reasons. Because Erin and Spencer were never in love, because they knew and loved each other deeply as friends, and if you believe in this, because they aren't soulmates like Ashley and Spencer. Ashley and Spencer's curse of not being able to touch without pain is because they didn't know each other before Spencer died and because Spencer had nobody she was in love with when she died, she should have moved on. But she didn't. She couldn't because she needed Ashley and Ashley needed her. Does all of that make sense? I hope so. Aw, did it really? Was there a specific reason why? My time away was awesome, thanks. Hectic and stressful, but it still good. :)

**AbsoluteGarbage **- Then I'm glad to deliver :).

**pam -** Thank you. Yes it is. Read the response above one. I hope it answers your question :)

**c-diddy -** Haha, the remix? Sounds sweet. Glad you like this version, too :D. Yeah, I know. I think it comes back to the "People do denial well" line. It was intended to be a sort of come-back to that line, anyway. She didn't want to notice it.

**DeadWitchReading -** Thanks. Erin actually won't be an obstacle as such. It's Ashley for Spencer and Spencer for Ashley. I never like any other "love interest" in my fics, to be honest. I don't not enjoy reading it, I just usually find different obstacles for my characters to overcome. Outside drama I tend to stay away from. Thaaank you :D. Haha, well...I can promise the next chapter isn't too bad. The one after? I can't promise anything. Oh, sure I can! It's right underneath flying ;).

**Coachkimm -** Thanks :). I don't think so. Most of Erin's work has been done. She's had all her mentions through Spencer and her scene with them both. I think there'll be one more scene with Spencer and Erin and that'll be it, 'cause the story is done in a couple of chapters anyway.

**taymm15 -** Aw, sorry about that. Thank you for the compliment, though ;).

**Pendulum666 -** Exactly what I was going for. Thank you very much.

**s0nFan16 -** I know. It's like her version of heaven and hell rolled into one. Read and you'll find out soon ;).

* * *

Ashley fell asleep holding me and not long after I had to carefully remove her arms away from me and get out of bed, unable to stand the physical side effects any longer. Her parents had left for work fifteen minutes prior and I decided to walk into their room. I saw how different it looked and how the only giveaway that suggested somebody slept in there was the unmade bed.

My parents didn't keep the place untidy, but it was a bedroom that if a person was to walk inside it would actually feel like a bedroom instead of a showroom. Mr Davies doesn't keep loose change on his bedside table like my father used to and Mrs Davies doesn't keep a bottle of water on her bedside table in case she gets thirsty in the night like my mother used to.

The room has long lost the familiar scent that it always had, and the stain my mother made on the carpet when she dropped her mascara brush on the floor has long been removed. My eyes close and I can see myself at no more than eight years old, standing in their doorway early in the morning and watching them sleep. The memory is bittersweet.

I walk into Glen's old bedroom which is still used for storage and I block out all the boxes, only seeing how his room used to be, how I wish it could have stayed for a little longer. I think of how it should have been turned into a sewing room or something of the sort, when he had gone away to college. My fingers trace over the wall just underneath the windowsill and I feel, as much as see, the slight dip to the wallpaper.

Glen had been teasing me about Jason, who was a handsome boy that used to live in the next street, he wouldn't stop asking me out but I was less than interested. He was a nice person, but not the person for me. I told Glen to shut up or I'd pull some of his wallpaper off. He didn't believe me. I only pulled a small piece off, a piece that was right underneath the window sill and my mother never did find out.

It hurts me. My eyes feel the familiar burn of tears fast-approaching and my throat feels the constrictive pressure that threatens to choke me.

"Hey."

And I blink them back. Suddenly, I'm no longer weak with pain. I turn around to face the voice and see Ashley standing in the doorway, looking sleepy.

"Go back to bed, Ashley," I tell her, sighing.

She ignores my words and her expression quickly turns to concern. "Are you okay?"

No, I'm still really _not _okay I think to myself. "Go back to bed, you slept two hours."

"I asked if you were okay, Spence," she repeats carefully.

I turn back around and run the pads of my fingers over the patch of white where the wallpaper once lay. "I don't want to talk," I reply quietly, carefully.

"It's just me," she points out unnecessarily.

That's the problem. I can't talk to her about this. I don't know how she would take it. I'm still not sure how I'm taking it. I don't think it's sunken in properly yet and I wonder if it's going to be one of those things that is somehow pushed to the back of your mind, only to resurface some time later and make you stop exactly what you're doing, not able to do anything but think, perhaps dwell on it.

My fingers come away from the wall and brush against something underneath the windowsill. I kneel down to look at it and it's one half of a basketball sticker Glen must have failed to peel off. For once, it doesn't comfort me. I just feel the devastating ache of the muscle inside my chest upon seeing more reminders of my family. My dead family.

I restand and face Ashley. "Why the hell didn't your parents clean the house properly?"

"What?" she asks, looking bewildered at my tone.

"No, I mean it, why didn't they clean the house? Are they allergic to chores or something? What kind of person moves into a pre-owned house and doesn't clean every single room?" I ask angrily.

Ashley looks confused at my anger. "Calm down. What's wrong?"

"What's wrong, is that I'm sick of this! I don't want to keep being reminded anymore. Clean the damn room," I spit out.

She looks around. "There's nothing wrong with this room."

"Oh, no?" I ask her with an inappropriate attitude.

Her face hardens. "What is wrong with you?"

"I think at this point, it would be easier to ask what's right with me," I admit.

Ashley begins to move toward me. "Spence, just -"

I put my hand up to halt her movements. "No, don't," I say, not wanting her near me right now. I need to be alone.

"Don't what?" she questions.

"Don't come near me," I clarify.

Ashley's demeanour changes. She's trying to figure me out. "Look, I can't help unless you tell me -"

I rudely interrupt her. "Then don't. Don't even try. I don't want you to. I didn't ask you to. You can't fix everything." She looks as though she doesn't know what to say, so I carry on, "You're not going to say anything? You're going to be 'quiet Ashley'." I nod my head to my words and keep my eyes set on hers. "Well, why don't you go and be quiet Ashley back in your room?"

Ashley frowns, clearly angry with me now. "What the hell is wrong with you? What's with the attitude?"

I set my jaw and stare at her. I don't say a word.

"I know you don't mean it," she starts.

"I don't?" I dare her to challenge me.

"No," she stresses, sounding angrier with each sentence. "You don't."

I wave a hand toward the door behind her, not caring how terrible I'm acting. "Get out."

A disbelieving sound leaves her lips. "Get out of a room in my own house?"

I nod my confirmation, my angry eyes never straying from hers.

"Why don't you get out, huh?" she asks me challengingly. "I mean, you said it yourself, this is my house."

I'm in no mood for her attitude, however appropriate it may be. "Get the hell away from me, Ashley."

The door slams shut behind her and I sit down on the floor, leaning against the wall. My eyes close in frustration and my throat hurts with emotion. At this point, I really don't know what to do anymore.

* * *

Whenever I used to act like a bitch in the past, it was easy for me to apologise and explain why I reacted how I did and why I said the words I said, but I can't do that today. I can't tell Ashley the real reason for my earlier outburst. I haven't seen her for nearly four hours and she isn't in the house. I'm starting to worry.

That's a lie. I started to worry after ten minutes. I tried calling her phone but it went to voicemail. She's going to get an earful when she does eventually show herself again, that much I can tell you. I'm worried sick.

I get tired of waiting as soon as another five minutes pass and I leave the house through the back door. Walking through the streets, I see babies in strollers and think of all the times I've picked up a dropped toy or a fallen shoe; none of those times where I passed the item back to the baby hurt. Why didn't I notice it before Erin? Did I even want to?

I let my legs carry me to places Ashley and I visit frequently, but there's no sign of her anywhere. I tried calling her name but I felt silly, so I stopped. I know she wouldn't have answered me, anyway. The last place I check is the river where she asked me what I wanted for Christmas. I sigh at the lack of Ashley and sit down heavily on the bridge.

I shouldn't have spoken to her like that. She didn't deserve it. I was just overwhelmed and I wanted her to hate me for a little while. I wanted her to get angry and make me hate her, too. I wanted this to be easier for both of us.

She gave me my family back for Christmas and all I do is keep pulling away and speaking to her like I should never speak to anybody. I sigh at myself and look to the riverbank that holds beautiful flowers every year.

I think about that word and try to piece my jumbled thoughts together. My legs move from underneath myself and I stand, heading to where I'm positive Ashley is.

* * *

It took fifteen minutes to get here, I don't stop at the gate and I don't pay attention to the dead people looking at me. But just because I wasn't paying attention, doesn't mean I don't stop when one of them walks into my path.

"What are you doing here?" a man, who looked to be in his forties when he died, asks me.

"Get out of my way," I tell him, not being particularly polite. I have more important people to talk to. Person, actually.

"You shouldn't still be here, Spencer Carlin."

I frown at how he knows my name and give him a dirty look before I walk around him, hurrying to my destination. I see Ashley kneeling next to my grave. Her body is leaning across and tracing my engraved name. Fresh flowers are also resting on top of my grave and when I look around her body, I see that the three next to mine have flowers, too.

I walk up to her and kneel down a short but necessary distance away. She glances across and she sets her eyes on my usual jean clad knees before looking away again. I'm first to speak, I have to be.

"I'm sorry," I say softly.

Her hair is blowing slightly in the wind and her voice is kind when she replies, "I know."

"I'm so sorry," I insist. "I don't usually speak to anybody like that."

Ashley keeps her eyes away from me, but her body language is positive. "It's okay, Spencer."

I'm looking at her, though. I can't look away. "It's never okay for me to speak to you like that."

"I know why you did."

"What?" I ask quickly.

Ashley turns around to face me, her eyes downcast. "I figured it out."

"You did?" I want to make sure she knows before I blab.

"Yesterday with Erin," she begins. "It didn't hurt you."

I don't want to confirm it right away. Part of me doesn't want to admit it out loud and I think back to when Ashley didn't want to ask me any questions. I understand that now because as soon as I say it out loud, it becomes real.

"Did it?" she asks for my confirmation.

I can't speak the words, but my slumped shoulders and sad eyes give her all the confirmation she needs. Her posture soon mirrors my own and her eyes soon close. I can see her trying not to cry, something I didn't manage to do a few hours earlier.

I ignore all the eyes I can feel watching us and I reach across to take a white rose from the dozen carefully placed through the slots on the flower pot of my grave. I kiss the tip of it like Ashley once did for me and press it to her lips.

"It's okay to cry," I whisper to her.

Her lips shake as she nods and her tears finally find their way from her closed eyelids.

"I love you," I say quietly, meaning every word more than anything.

Ashley's eyes open slowly and my heart grows heavy when I see how devastated they are. "I love you, too."

* * *

As soon as we got home, Ashley removed her coat and told me she was going for a shower. I nodded and told her that I'd wait downstairs for her. It was almost awkward. With the latest revelation, neither of us seem to know what to do or how to react. How does one react correctly to a situation like this?

I still don't know what to do, or how we're going to get past this. She's the only person who manages to make me feel alive when I'm dead. Other people acknowledge me, sure, but none of them make me feel like she does without even trying. None of those people would turn over in the middle of the night and smile at me unconsciously, none of those people would have looked at me so intently that it made me want to cry. I would never have felt any of their hearts stop for a second when I first kissed them.

I want her. All of her. And I've always wanted to at least kiss somebody in the shower.

Before I have the chance to change my mind or punk out, I stand up and walk up the stairs. I wait outside of the bathroom for a second and stand in the spot I waited for Ashley that one night all those months ago. The water is running and from what I can tell, she's underneath the spray of it, washing off the suds from her hair.

I slowly open the door to the bathroom and close it with just as much stealth. The glass from the shower cubicle is steamed up but I can see the outline of her body and how her head is tilted backward letting the shampoo run from her hair. The scent of her hygiene products is heavy in this steam-filled room. The scent of _her _is heavy in this steam-filled room.

When her head moves forward again I step closer and slide the door open , making sure to keep my eyes locked onto hers which have just shot open in surprise. Briefly, they widen even further and they darken in a way that's already making it difficult to breathe.

"Spence, what are you doing?" she asks me in a breathy whisper when I fully step inside the shower with her and close the door behind me.

"Whatever I want," I reply honestly.

Her deep breaths force away some of the steam surrounding us and I forget my stupid body and all of its stupid reactions. All I concentrate on is the perfectly sculpted body in front of me, the body my eyes want to scan over fully, but don't. Not yet.

My fingers touch hers and feel their higher temperature from being under the spray of hot water, they feel her soft but wet skin and how she's letting me touch her exactly how I want to. She's not pushing me for anything even though I'm the one who's fully clothed.

I pull my fingers away from hers and keep my eyes locked onto hers when my hand touches Ashley's bare stomach for the first time. She sounds like she's trying to remember how to breathe and, just for a second, I let my eyes close because I need to remember this and I need to hide how it's hurting me.

When they re-open, she's staring at my mouth and I part my lips slightly and look at hers, how inviting they look. My shallow breaths don't move the steam.

The hand on her stomach is beginning to cramp and I slide it around her slight frame, firmly but gently pulling her against me. I see the water being repelled from making contact with my skin, and I feel Ashley's soft skin underneath and how it's burning me more than any sun ever could.

Her breathing has picked up noticeably and I lean forward, pressing my lips against hers. It hurts more to kiss her than anything else, but I don't care. Ashley responds, keeping her hands away from me and down by her side. It's something I give her credit for.

Lips part and kisses grow deeper and longer. Moans get swallowed. Moans of pleasure and moans of discomfort, mixtures of both.

My hands are gently resting around her neck now and both are cramping despite my every effort for them not to. With rigid arms, I walk into her and she steps back, pressing against the tiled wall behind her. Her mouth pulls away from mine to draw in desperate breaths and I lean my head down to kiss her shoulder, the water bending just slightly to avoid my body with each movement I make.

On her shoulder, I feel the water underneath my tongue and lips just as much as I feel her tanned skin and racing heartbeat against my chest.

She can feel the tension in my arms and hands now. She pulls them away from her and is still a little out of breath. "Baby, stop."

"I can't," I confess, feeling my eyes pooling with tears the same time I feel a searing, white pain wrap around every nerve in my body. My forehead moves forward to be able to rest against hers. "I have to kiss you, touch you…."

And she's kissing me again.

Her hands release their hold of my wrists and instead frame my face, holding me in position as we kiss over and over. My hands move to grasp almost frantically at her hips, pulling them flush against mine as her tongue sweeps over my lip, gaining entrance almost instantly.

Her kiss halts abruptly, but she doesn't fully pull away from me. Her lips remain in front of mine, almost breathing into me as she gasps for breath and opens her lidded, almost black eyes. "Stop," she whispers, weakly.

"Why?" I can stand the pain a little longer.

"You know why," she says softly. "I want to, but I can't. Not when I can feel how it's hurting you."

It's not as bad as it was when we were in bed. My voice is shaking as I reply, "I don't care."

"I do. If we don't stop now, I won't be able to."

Studying her intently, I nod, and with difficulty, we both move away from each other "Okay." My voice is barely audible over the sound of the water and Ashley's still heavy breaths.

Turning to leave, I reconsider and lean back in, giving her one last kiss. It's soft and her full lips part and press forward against mine before I pull away and finally get out of the shower.

I lean against the bathroom door as soon as I close it and I run my tongue over my lips, tasting Ashley. My body still feels like it's on fire, my arms are still rigid in pain, and my hands are still cramping in agony, but we stopped soon enough that I can already feel it lessening and not increasing to the level it did a couple of weeks ago when we got carried away.

Remaining true to my word, I walk back down the stairs in an almost trance-like state. I can still feel her body against me and it's making me uncomfortable in the most comfortable of ways.

* * *

Ashley sat with her legs crossed tightly for the rest of the day and I admit to smiling at the sight, but there was always the undercurrent of dread of how this is going to work, of what we're going to do. I don't think either of us has a clue.


	26. In the Arms of the Angel

**Goober37 -** Thought you would notice ;). Thank you very much. I know! It went really fast. Note: the ending is _changed_, per se. What you read on the forum still happens, the ending "fade out" words are just different. Longer. I still haven't finished editing it yet because I'm sick and I want to take my time on it. Thanks for your feedback as always.

**xxMaNdYxx -** Thanks :]

**War Myce -** Thank you. Hell yes she is. Poor lil' ghost.

**Movies7Too -** No, absolutely not. I never get annoyed. I love when people have questions for me to answer. Your question is answered in this chapter. That's all I'll tell you. Thanks a lot for your feedback.

**DeadWitchReading -** She went psycho-bitch because, with the latest revelation and the reminders of her family around, she was just frustrated. Unbelievably so. Nothing is ever fair to either of them and she reached breaking point. I'm not sure whether or not that's a good thing, you know. I'm just as nervous to post this chapter here as I was a year ago when it was posted for the first time. There's only one more chapter after this one, so the end is very, very near. I sincerely hope nothing is a disappointment, but I can accept and DO appreciate any displeased comments toward this chapter.

**lexj -** Aw, okay. The update after this one will be the last, so you don't have too long to wait until I answer everything for you.

**weightofitall -** Aw, I'm sorry! After this chapter, there's only one left. That was sweet, thank you very much. :D

**lonerchild -** Well, I can't have you going insane now, can I? ;)

**Conscious -** *looks to watch* You're a bit late to the party, aren't you? I've been back for days! :P. Aw, I barely survived either. Migraines were kicking my butt like you would _not _believe. It was clearly withdrawl symptoms *cough*.

**SSKICKSS -** LOL Why are you _laughing?_ Twat :P. Actually, that kind of depends where you're from. I say it both ways, just because I like to vary things up like that. I never play anyone with my accent :P. Why would I? Just like most American's don't see the appeal with their accent, I don't see the appeal in mine. Haha, you loser. I'm sure you took care of the boyfriend. Will do, _kid_. You, bitchy? I can't see it. Nope, not at all.

**AbsoluteGarbage -** I'll take that as a good sign :). Aw, I'm sorry about that. Have faith!

**littlejaz -** I'm glad!

**XSamXStutterzX -** No, not at all. S'what I'm here for. Thanks for your review :D.

**lulubirdy -** Yeah, it's definitely time for a break. They've been through the ringer. :P Well, their curse of not being able to touch without pain is because Spencer isn't supposed to be there, she should have moved on with her family but she couldn't because she needs Ashley and Ashley needs her. I'll explain more when the story is over if you don't get it (which will be soon, as there's only one chapter after this one). Thanks for thinking of me like that. Really, I couldn't ask for a better reader.

**NotxxWhatxxItxxSeems -** Neon signs are the shit! Oh yeah, trust me I know. Ususally they only last like, three days, but this one just wouldn't leave. Aw lol. You're going into medicine? Very, very nice, m'dear. An intervention does sound pretty intense. Well, it's almost as frustrating as this in some parts, if that's a helpful hint :P. Not QUITE, though! Nothing will be as frustrating as this, I don't think. Thank you :D. Well, I'm addicted to the feedback, so it was kind of lose-lose for us all ;).

**lolzzaa2 -** Aw, thanks!

**SpashLuva -** I know! Amazing self-control throughout this story. Both of them. I don't think I would have lasted quite as long. I've never seen that movie, but it sounds sweet. OMG! Jim fucking died? What? Why? He was so sweet. Was it a dream, or something? Why does GW do this to me? S1 was bad enough! I always liked Denny in GA. Jefferey has the sweetest, kindest, most handsome smile ever.

* * *

When I was little, I had to sleep with the curtains shut every single night. If they were open even a fraction, I would put on the light and walk the short distance to the window and close them properly, wondering why when you ask someone to close the curtains and make sure they're closed properly, they don't do it. As soon as I got back into bed I would always feel just a little guilty for thinking that. They didn't have to even attempt, they could have told me to do it myself.

My reasoning for such things was that I hated the shadows on the wall. I hated the trees at the front of the house which used to cast them and how they would sway when it was windy and make it look like somebody was trying to get in through the window.

That was also something I grew out of and something I would forever deny ever frightened me.

* * *

Ashley made us go to bed early last night. We didn't do the things I know we both wanted to do, but we said the words we both needed to say. I told her again that I loved her and she told me she loved me, too.

I knew she was getting tired when her blinks were increasing and she started taking more time to open her eyes again. I smiled and told her to rest because, really, she looks so cute when she's trying not to fall asleep. She returned the smile and continued to look into my eyes until hers closed and she whispered "goodnight," before sleep claimed her.

I didn't take my eyes off her for hours. I tore them away thirty minutes ago and felt satisfied in having watched her sleep, watched her dream. I smiled at how every time I moved my arm closer to hers and ignored the pain she would frown slightly and move hers away from me, not wanting to hurt me even in sleep.

A low moan causes me turn to face her again and I feel her shift slightly underneath the covers, it makes my eyebrows raise and the corners of my lips turn up. My face feels a little warmer than usual.

Her breaths are rapid and her head leans to the side just slightly, pressing back into the pillow. I move my hand across the sheets and place my palm against her rapidly beating heart. Even though I have my usual reaction, I keep it there for a few seconds longer, loving the feel of it against my palm.

It wasn't long before I moved my hand away. I was afraid I would wake her up. The last thing I did was press my lips over her heart before I pulled back and was mildly disappointed when her dream appeared to be over.

An hour passes where all I think about is my family and what their plans would be if they were still alive. I think about how many people are going to die today, some by natural causes, some by terrible accidents, some by intentional cause, and some unnecessarily in vicious attacks or murders.

Mr and Mrs Davies are awake, their shower was running earlier and I can hear the radio from behind closed doors. They didn't even speak to Ashley yesterday.

Ashley takes in a breath through her nostrils and stretches out, causing her leg to come into contact with mine. She pulls it back quickly enough that it was almost nice, it was almost a simple, albeit very brief, pleasant touch.

Hey her eyes are open and they look sleepy. They're beautiful. They close again and I smile at her laziness. "Ash, wake up."

She grunts and nestles her head further into her pillow, not ready to return to the land of the living just yet.

"I know you're not asleep," I try again. She's trying not to smile at me. "Did you have good dreams?" I ask with a barely concealed smirk.

There isn't one sign of embarrassment to her features. She must not remember it. Her shoulders shrug. "Only remember one."

I have an idea of what went on during her dream, but I ask anyway. "What happened in that?"

"What always happens," she answers simply.

I don't need to ask for an elaboration. She tells me of her dreams when I'm dancing with her frequently. I open my mouth to speak when Christine walks into the room. Ashley is as shocked as I am. Her mother is hardly ever in here.

"Good morning, Ashley," she says almost pleasantly.

Ashley raises her arm as her greeting. Probably still finding her voice.

My hand seems to have a mind of its own when it slides across to Ashley and I soon find my fingertips pressed against the base of her throat. She's trying to act normally but she must look like a lunatic widening her eyes at me to stop in front of her mother.

I tiptoe my fingers down her chest and the look on her face is more than worth the pain.

Christine sighs impatiently. "I need you downstairs in five, Ashley."

My fingers skip down over her soft but firm stomach and as soon as they reach the waistband of her underwear she jumps out of bed. I wasn't going to go any further, I couldn't.

"I'll be there," she assures her mother.

My hand hurts but I'm smiling.

As soon as Christine leaves the room Ashley turns to look at me with wide eyes and an expectant expression.

I lift my hand up and smack it with the other one, not looking at all apologetic.

"Spencer Carlin, _that _was uncalled for."

I laugh and move over to her side of the bed, loving how it smells. "Shower now, or later?" I ask.

She pulls a face of slight annoyance before answering. "Later. Mom wants to talk or something."

My head nods briefly, accepting her decision. "Later," I echo. "Okay, with or without me?"

She arches an eyebrow and purses out her lips to keep from smiling. "With." A pause. "Out. Sorry."

I knew she was going to say that and I smile to let her know I'm not offended before pulling the covers over my head. Ashley is quick to talk. "Oh no, if I have to spend time with Godzilla, then so do you. Get up."

My eyes roll but I kick the covers off and stand up. "Get dressed. I'm going to move the milk across the breakfast table," I announce seriously.

She's already pulling on some black jeans that I love on her. She hasn't worn them in a couple of weeks. "I'm decent enough," she says while reaching for a white shirt and fastening up the buttons I would prefer her to keep open.

Ashley uses the bathroom quickly and within five minutes and true to her word, she's downstairs with her parents. When we're standing in the same room as her parents I scratch the corner of my mouth to indicate she has a little toothpaste on hers. It's strangely endearing.

She wipes it off with her thumb. "So, what's up?" Ashley asks her mother.

"I just thought you'd like to know your father and I are going away for a little while." she says with a tone I can't place.

"You're leaving?" She frowns.

"Yes, our plane takes off in a few hours."

"You're leaving the state?" Ashley asks with shock. "And you didn't tell me till now, or ask me if I wanted to go with you?"

Her mother finds it difficult to conceal a sigh. "You're old enough to make your own vacation plans, Ashley."

"How long are you leaving for?" she asks.

"Just three weeks."

Ashley raises an eyebrow. "Oh, just three weeks?" she asks derisively. "Why not a month? Hell, why not two?"

"You get your dramatic nature from your father," she sighs.

"Why do you keep doing this? I thought maybe you were changing but you still just take off whenever you want. Both of you." Christine opens her mouth to speak when Ashley cuts in, "You know what? It's fine, just go."

Her mother misses her tone and kisses the air next to her cheek. "Goodbye, sweetheart."

Raife smiles half-heartedly but Ashley doesn't manage to smile in response. "Bye, Mom," she says faintly.

The door closes and I stand there not knowing what to say. Thankfully Ashley saves me from the discomfort I feel. "Spence, do you want to be an angel and make my day?" she asks calmly.

It's a no brainer. "Of course."

"Breakfast," she almost asks.

"Sure," I agree without hesitation.

I made her the pancakes she sadly still hasn't managed to master and the coffee she swears is from heaven itself. She's on her third cup. "Are you okay?" I ask her.

"Yeah." She nods and finishes off the rest of the warm liquid. "I'm going to shower and go out."

"Where are we going today?"

Her eyes are warm despite earlier. "I just want to be alone for a bit, Spence. Is that okay?"

"Sure," I tell her truthfully. "You don't have to ask."

Ashley has showered and is adjusting her necklace. We're both in the foyer. "Be careful. No talking to strangers," I tell her, adding on a smile.

"What could you do if I did? Say boo?" she asks, almost smirking.

I step closer to her to quickly kiss her cheek and she leans into me for a second. My lips burn. "Yeah, well, I know where you live. Remember that."

She smiles at me the way I love. "I'll see you soon, okay?"

"Yes, Ashley." I sigh dramatically in jest. "I can live without you for an hour or two."

"Okay." She smiles. "Now, what does one say to another when they're leaving the house?"

"Bring me back something nice?" I quip

She laughs. "That's not what I was looking for."

I smile at her tone of voice before I reply, "I love you."

"Finally," she drags the word out. "I love you, too."

I open the front door for her and keep my fingers wrapped around the doorknob. "And I'll see you soon?"

"You'll see me soon," she confirms.

* * *

When you get used to spending time with a certain person and they leave for a while, you feel like every time you look at the clock, it's barely been a minute. I busy myself cleaning up from breakfast, something I should have done hours ago and I go upstairs to fold the towel Ashley always seems to forget to fold each time she's finished using it.

I'm reduced to singing along to some of the bad eighties music in the kitchen, music that I usually love but not when the radio decides to play songs that just barely made the top forty when they entered the charts.

Watching Ashley's eyes scan over my body as soon as she walks through the door is nothing out of the ordinary, I welcome it and sometimes forget where I am when her eyes are on mine. Something a little like what is happening now. "Ashley Davies, you've been gone all day. I was contemplating worrying," I tease.

Ashley closes the front door and her eyes dance as she walks closer, stepping into my personal space.

"You're wearing my favourite outfit," I offer upon the silence.

"Yeah," she murmurs, her eyes growing darker.

Something is different. She's never like this. I'm never like this. "Ash, -"

"I love you," she interrupts gently, lifting her soft hand up to my face to caress the skin.

My eyes widen as I stumble back from her, breaking any contact between us. I didn't feel any pain. "No." I shake my head in disbelief. "Tell me… tell me you didn't."

"Spence, -"

"No," I cut her off. If breathing was a necessity I'd be in trouble. "Please, tell me. Tell me you didn't, Ashley."

"It's okay," she insists softly, walking closer to my dumfounded body.

My eyes fill and burn while my chest feels empty and cold. "No, it's not." I can't look at her. "Oh god, what did you do?"

"Spencer, look at me."

My blurry eyes fixate on hers. "How is it okay when you, you're…oh god, your body." I dart toward the door. "We have to get you to a hospital and you'll be fine. You'll be fine and safe and, and -"

Ashley hurries after me and her hand grasps my own, stopping my speech. I'm positive I'm not breathing anymore, how could I be? I stop walking. Her hand is on mine and it doesn't hurt, not even a little. She moves in front of me lifting both of my hands and placing them firmly on to her face, her forehead resting on my own. "Hey, it's okay. I'm fine, see? I'm right here, baby. I'm right here."

"Ashley," I whisper brokenly, giving her a desperate look and sliding my hand down to her chest and putting my hand over her heart. It isn't beating. "How could you do that?" I ask, barely coherent through my tears. "How could you? Your parents, Ashley."

"It was the only way, we both know that."

I shake my head and close my eyes, not willing to believe this.

"I did everything I wanted to," I hear her say quietly. "Remember that day on the bridge when I told you what I wanted?"

I let out the most pathetic sob but I don't even care. I remember that day. I remember it so well.

Ashley is crying now, too. "Please stop crying, baby."

I cling to her; finally able to touch her without feeling anything but her. I press us so close together I'm afraid we'll both get lost.

"Dance with me," she requests softly, her tears flowing steadily. She's as beautiful as ever.

"You can't just -" I stop, not remembering what I was going to say and wonder if it would have even made sense. "Ashley." I say her name just to hear it.

"Dance with me," I hear her say again, softly.

"This isn't real."

It can't be. I felt her heart this morning. I felt it pounding. Her fingers painlessly pressing into my skin through the material of my shirt contradicts that statement immediately, causing a fresh batch of tears to fall from my eyes. "Oh, god."

Her arms tighten around my body and I can't stop my arms from reaching up and linking around her neck. Our bodies move together slowly and I am unsure of anything but Ashley and how we fit together, how soft she is.

Almost on autopilot my arms pull back, leaving my fingertips to graze the skin on the back of her neck emitting a low sigh from Ashley, her face pressing into my neck. My eyes close instinctively as soon as her hands creep underneath my shirt to brush against the skin, moving up my back and down again.

I step on her toes like I always knew I would and she laughs how I always imagined she would. I laugh too, the action forcing more tears down my face, and then I stop because nothing about this situation is funny, and it never really was.

My eyes close again and I can feel my lips trembling. She's right in front of me and her hands are on my body. The side of Ashley's face presses against my own and I lean into it. "I'm right here," she repeats.

I push my face even harder against hers and I press my shaking lips together, nodding.

"I love you," she whispers to me and it nearly knocks me off my unsteady feet.

I can smell her perfume like I could when I first kissed her, how I can every morning when I indulge in the secret pleasure of mine of smelling her pillow, only this is so much better because it's real and my body doesn't feel like I'm dying all over again. And because I couldn't get any closer to her skin if I tried.

"Do you love me?" Ashley asks me.

"You know I do," I whisper out, barely able to talk.

"Will you say it?"

"I love you," I manage to say strongly as I try to pull her closer. "I love you so much."

Her face moves from off mine and when I open my eyes she's looking at me with such a content look in her eyes that it nearly breaks my heart. "You're beautiful," she says, as though she's never seen me before, sounding as if she doesn't stay up until the early hours most nights just in case she forgets the exact shade of my eyes.

"I'm going to kiss you now," Ashley whispers, wiping away my tears with her thumbs. "Okay?"

I don't know why she's acting like this; so calm. I don't know why I'm the one who is needing constant reassurance and why I'm being treated delicately when she's the one who woke up for the last time this morning.

All I can do is close my eyes and I feel her lean in, I feel her lips hovering for just a second before her hands move around to cup either side of my face and then they're on mine. They're warm like I always know they are but have never had the opportunity to revel in the sensation for too long before.

And now I can do more than close my eyes because when she's so close to me and when her lips are on mine I can do a lot of things, but when she tells me she loves me, then I can do anything.

I press my lips back against hers and feel her smile, just for a second, until my bottom lip is being caressed by her tongue. Her back is against the wall before I even register that my feet are moving and I take the hands that are gently holding my face and push my fingers through hers before lifting them up in the air by the side of us and squeezing, holding them against the wall above us.

Lips slide and part allowing kisses to grow deeper, hotter. I push my body against hers, eliciting a content sigh from Ashley.

Pulling away from her lips, I open my eyes. Hers are still closed as she runs her tongue over her lips and it's all I need to see before I lower my head to the crook of her neck. I press gentle kisses to the delicate skin underneath my lips and drag my tongue back up, drawing a soft lobe into my mouth and bringing out a beautiful moan from inside Ashley's throat, causing her hips to roll into mine.

She leans into me and turns her face toward mine. I release the soft skin out of necessity and her mouth kisses my cheek until I turn my head and reconnect our lips for a time that could never be enough.

"Upstairs?" she asks with a thicker voice and darker eyes.

I lower our hands in response and lead us to a room I'd be able to find even if I was blind. I don't let go of her hand once.

* * *

As soon as we're through the door she gently presses me against it and lowers her lips to my neck, an area that, up until now, has remained untouched by Ashley. I feel her bring her tongue out to brush against the skin and my eyes almost roll back.

When she stops for a second we're both taking fast and shallow breaths, though our bodies won't react to it.

Ashley's hands that were resting on my hips loosely hold the tips of my fingers before dragging over them and pressing her palms against the skin of my arms, sliding them upward. I could swear I feel goosebumps rising in their wake. They come to a stop when they get to my shoulders and she kisses the sensitive patch of skin next to my ear, making me shudder.

My hands are free to slide underneath her shirt and move across the softest skin I've ever felt. Her breath hitches as soon as she registers the contact and my short nails press into her skin. "Spence," she breathes out.

I feel her fingers press down onto my shoulders.

I walk us toward the bed and lower her onto it. Kneeling next to her, I carefully press half of my body against hers before she grasps my face and guides my lips back to hers. I love kissing her, the sounds our lips make, how she keeps trying not to moan too loudly.

I don't even realise we were sideways on the bed until she sits up, forcing me to sit up with her, my legs falling either side of her hips. Her eyes are dark when she reaches down to the hem of my simple grey tee I decided to put on the last day I woke up alive, the simple grey tee she tells me I look beautiful in, and she lifts it up slowly past an abdomen I was first shy to show and to ribs she's never seen. My arms raise and the material is pulled over my head exposing my bra clad chest.

I look down to her heavy lidded eyes and swollen lips that mirror my own before her lips kiss over my heart. When she looks back up to my eyes she makes me swallow thickly with the intensity of her own.

My shaking hands lift the hem of her white shirt and expose skin I've imagined seeing this close and in this situation countless times before. Once the material is out of the way, I press my lips over her heart and my eyes fill once more at how I don't feel it beat.

Ashley brings her arm around my neck and pulls my lips back against hers quickly before tugging me to lay back down, effectively causing us both to gasp at how it feels to have our skin finally pressed together with no barriers and no pain.

Her gasp evolves into a moan and her hands move to my hips in an attempt to pull me closer. I roll mine into hers and reattach our lips, quickly asking for permission to enter her mouth which is instantly granted.

She copies my action of rolling her hips and I slide a leg between hers, positioning myself on top of her thigh and feel the already acute ache between my legs begin to grow in intensity. Her tongue repeatedly rubs against my own and her hips will barely keep still, her breaths are heavy.

I tear my lips away from hers and release a throaty moan when she lifts her leg up and pushes it against my centre.

Ashley whispers out my name and I force my eyes open, they stay lidded, locked with hers. I think I just asked her if she was okay but I'm not positive.

"Yeah." She moans again when I rock against her. "Spence, I need -" Ashley stops when my lips cover her bra clad nipple, bringing it to an even harder peak and mirroring the action to the other breast soon after.

"I know," I tell her softly just after her low moan fills the silence of the room.

At some point our pants were removed and we got underneath the covers. Our legs are tangled and our bodies are pressed together as she kisses me deep enough that I can't help but let her know how good she feels with a deep moan and pushing my knee harder against her. She responds with a moan of her own and I smile against her lips.

Ashley stops kissing me and I draw back to see her eyes closed, she's trying to remember this moment, not to take any contact between us for granted.

She's carefully pushed onto her back and her legs part immediately, allowing my body to rest between hers. Her hands are everywhere and I'm certain mine are, too. I'm certain the only reason I've been around for the last year is to be here right now with Ashley, experiencing ecstasy I only ever used to dream about. Ecstasy I only ever expected to dream about.

I let my lips taste her neck again and I'm rewarded with a quiet whimper, my hand is caressing the smooth skin covering the inside of a toned thigh and I can feel the heat. We've had months to build up to this, it isn't just today.

"Spence," she breathes my name again with her face flushed and her lips parted and swollen, her lidded eyes screaming to me. "Please," she whispers, arching up into me. "I need you."

My hands shake as they pull her underwear down her legs until they're completely off and out of the way. I shift to the side of her. "Are you sure?"

Her almost desperate nod of the head says yes, positive.

I lean down and I press the softest kiss to her chin that I've always wanted to and can't believe I just did, how easy it was and how much I'm going to do it again at another time. For the countless time, my lips press against hers and I give her a deep, languid kiss, content to feel her body's reaction through my mouth. "I love you," I remind her quietly, in case she forgot from the last time I told her.

Our kiss eventually stops and my hand skates over her skin until I get to her hipbone. Ashley's breath's are choppy and shallow. "Love you," is all she can say, her voice almost hitching.

I enter her easily and a guttural moan escapes from deep inside her throat as her hips lift up to meet my hand. It doesn't take long for me to find and stick to a rhythm that elicits the most frequent moans from her and I never take my eyes off her face; how her head is thrown back onto the pillow as her hips meet every thrust of my hand; how her face is flushed pink and her lips are swollen and bruised; how her chest is heaving.

My lips lower to her shoulder and my tongue tastes the skin underneath, how it's salty from the light sheen of sweat.

Ashley's breaths are laboured and her neck looks more than alluring when she pushes her head harder against the pillow.

Her hips are moving faster against my hand and she's getting tighter against my fingers. I don't attempt to stop my lips from reaching her neck while never slowing the movement of my fingers and thumb, and I don't attempt to hide a moan of my own when I drag my tongue over Ashley's soft throat and her fingernails dig into my shoulders and drag down the skin of my back.

I repeat the action and she breathes out my name and an obscenity, pushing her hips at an even faster pace against my hand.

My eyes close on their own accord when her words become almost incoherent and she reaches a powerful climax.

Much like before, my eyes open first and set on Ashley's face, they notice how unbelievably calm and sated she looks. It would have made more sense for her to be the one who starts crying, but it's my eyes that are filling. I can't believe what she did today.

I remove my fingers and shift my body further over hers to bury my head in the crook of her neck, shivering at anything but the cold.

"It's okay," she whispers to me, her hands moving to rest on the small of my back.

I'm not sure if she told me to look at her or if it was something I did on my own accord, but her fingers are tracing over my face and my swollen lips, over the slight dip underneath my bottom lip and over my chin. She tips my head up a fraction and lifts hers up to kiss me so slow and so deep that I never want to stop. I never want to move my body from on top of hers.

* * *

We made love to each other more than once that night. It took a couple of hours for my eyes not to fill with tears each time I felt the intensity of a touch; each time I felt her grasping at me when the throbbing between her legs was building to an unimaginable degree; each time I could feel her hands moving across and down my body to slide between my legs and how it didn't shake uncontrollably from pain but from her and her touch only.

The last time we made each other's bodies arch up off the mattress wasn't where we stopped. She kissed me for hours. Not always on the lips, but everywhere they touched made me feel so much more alive than I ever felt with a heartbeat.

I only hope I made her feel the same way.


	27. Fade Out

**AN: I just want to make it clear that I don't encourage suicide in any way. That was never my intention or "message" for this story. As I say repeatedly to people below, I'd written half of the previous chapter before I'd even started chapter two. Those versions of Spencer and Ashley, and the conclusion they had, were already there in my head and I couldn't alter it. Not even when I tried. It was a natural progression for those two and to those who were disappointed it turned out the way it did? I am sorry. **

**On a lighter note, to all who have read and especially those who have reviewed: Thank you. This has been so great to write again and get back into their world. Despite the angst-filled content, it truly was theraputic to write. And okay, yeah, downright depressing :P. I hope you enjoy the final chapter and look out for more of my work soon. xx**

**MissMaclay -** lol That's too bad. Dude, no! That was you! It was in with the Amber link. It's not my fault if Tony was in it, too :P. I know, poor Ashley. "Not just because of naked Ashley", sure about that? :P. You rock, too ;).

**Movies7Too -** Thank you :). There are a hundred different ways that particular situation could go, but Ashley knew it was the only way and she knew it would only help. Again...that's something I can't answer. It's never, ever going to be written about because this obviously is entirely Spencer's POV and I would never write about suicide that detailed, I don't think. It was never intended to be written about. Acknowledged, sure. But nothing more than that. Sorry if that disappointed you.

**Jenna -** Thank you :D.

**rocola -** I love how you always get exactly what I try to put across in words without actually _saying it_. Thank you very much :).

**notintolabels29 -** Just like with the poster above, thank you. I love it when readers pick up on things I try to avoid spelling out. Reviews like yours kinda make my day, so, yeah, thanks :].

**MissMaclay -** *nods* She just knew. It was there and she was certain. Exactly, and that's the hardest part for Spencer. It was a good thing Ashley took it out of her control, god knows what would have happened otherwise. *bows* Thank you :D.

**jco32 -** Captivated? Now there's a word I love hearing. Especially regarding my writing, so thank you very much :). Glad you enjoyed it.

**lulubirdy -** That's exactly how I felt. Truly. I mean, I had half of that chapter written before I'd even started writing the second chapter. THAT'S how far ahead I was in my head. These characters were just there and this was how it had to end and they were who they were. Simple as. I know a LOT of people were disappointed that it had to come to that...but I had to write it how it felt natural to me. I know it's a very tough subject for a lot of people and I certainly have never meant to "promote" the act itself, it was just a natural progression in this story. Ha, you liked it, then? :P

**Lanae -** Hi there. Are you kidding? Of course I don't mind! Thank you so much, I'm glad you were both able to enjoy this together :).

**MissMaclay -** Dude, you're everywhere lol. No, I'm kidding, I like seeing you've commented again. I am, yeah. I don't sound it, but no, I have stomach flu. It sucks balls. But I'm having an hour where I don't feel like I'm going to be sick, so I decided to post. Yes, it's a Sarah McLachlan song. "Empty Corridors, Stars Fall Like Dust, Salvation Under My Breath, Winter Air, Almost Lover, Speeding Cars, Breathe Into Me, Arms of the Angel" were all songs, or lyrics from songs that I listened to when writing this story. :)

**Dianelis -** Thank you. There's just this final chapter, and then we're done. *looks down to chest* Definitely a girl. Why?

**DeadWitchReading -** I know. I wanted there to be very subtle hints throughout the story and for the readers to be completely stunned when they saw the outcome. I was very bittersweet. Both final chapters were, to be honest. It's always kind of bittersweet ending a story. Well, I sincerely hope the final conclusion doesn't leave you disappointed and thank you so much for all your lovely reviews throughout this fic :).

**RUlov3r -** Aw, I'm sorry! *hugshugs* Thank you very much :D

**Goober37 -** Ha, I'm sorry. Thank you. I hope you like this sliiightly altered version just as much, too.

**Anonymous -** Thanks! This is the final chapter, though. Hope you enjoy.

**Conscious -** Haha, a little stumped, are we? No, it was perfect, I wanted you to "flip shit" :P. Right, seeing as you were too busy going crazy and forgot to post with your super stealthy alias, I'll just say it here, just because it's the final chapter and this FOF (feedback on feedback) business is coming to an end: Sarah Is Kick Ass.

**s0nFan16 -** Shock value is what I was hopin' for :D. Glad you liked it and I hope you like the final chapter.

**AbsoluteGarbage -** I know that feeling, it's completely morbid and gross. Sorry I made you feel that lol. Aw, thanks, I'm glad you liked it.

**weightofitall -** Then I say, "Thank you very much" :). I'm so, so glad it lived up to the anticipation. Truly. It really was the biggest part to this fic and I wanted to do the moment justice, so I'm glad you thought I did. Basically, you're the shit :P

**TutorGurl -** Yup, the biggest. I wouldn't really say morbid. I even got a handful of PMs since last year, asking me how Ashley died. And I dunno...I never really decided on it because it was never, ever going to be written about. The subject is so delicate and I'd never want to promote it, or whatever. I didn't even want to type it out, which...I guess I didn't. Not in so many words, anyway. I'm glad you liked both of their reactions. I always love to see what you have to say about any of my work. When I eventually get around to Ashley's oneshot, your questions might be answered in there. I don't know when to do it from. Like, before she could see Spencer, _when _she could see Spencer, before she could touch her, etc. Maybe I'll end up doing parts of both? I dunno, we'll see. And even though I've wrote it tons in the past, I'm really not a fan of smut anymore, either. You've probably noticed the lack of it in other fics lol, but yeah, I just can't write it that much anymore, so I'm really glad you liked the "softer" smut. :)

**Pendulum666 -** Thank you very much :D

**angelperry7 -** Thanks a lot!

**lexj -** Glad you were a fan. Yup, just this last one and we're all done.

**Coachkimm -** Neither am I. I certainly don't encourage it, quite the opposite, but this was just always how it was going to be. I wrote half of the previous chapter right after I'd finished writing chapter one. Those characters and that conclusion were there and, while it was bittersweet, I had to keep it like that. There was no other way for this version of Spencer and Ashley to be together.

**jann4ice -** Haha, glad to hear it! Aw, no, I'm sorry. No coma Spencer. Oh no, you guessed my ending! :P Thank you very much :D.

**NotxxWhatxxItxxSeems -** Mastered? I would reeeeally disagree, but you're very sweet, so thank you. Haha, aw, well at least you're being treated! I know! I read that they only lasted 3 days, and by that point, I'd had it for 8. It was crazy. 8 years for education is very crazy, but when you're all professional, you'll at least be sexy. Professional people are really, really attractive. And I didn't mean that to sound like you aren't already sexy, and I didn't mean to make _that _sound like I'm hitting on you. .Mouth. Haha, thank you. Now, be a doll and try to enjoy this chapter, too. It'll make my day.

**Wildchild86 -** LOL oh, wow, I completely got that visual of you sobbing out Ashley had died and him having no clue what you were talking about. Thanks for the compliment though, lovely.

**midnight'sxfallenxangel -** Thank you, thank you, thank you. I can't wait to read more of your really nice reviews :P. Hope you enjoy the final chapter.

**SpashLuva -** I don't either, and I've said that repeatedly in my FOF (and will say it again in an Authors Note), but it was the only way for this particular version of Spashley. UGH. Why the hell would they do that? Jim was the shit in S1 (I stopped watching religiously after they killed Aisha's character, too. I only catch episodes now and again) and I just don't know why they'd do that to Melinda. It just doesn't make sense. Maybe as a one-off episode, but not for real. Denny was Izzie's patient and they fell in love while he was waiting for a heart transplant, I think. I floved his character and their relationship, though.

**sayheystevieray -** I know, lots didn't, but it had to happen. There's no chance of that, no, sorry. Hope you like the last chapter :].

**jtsec9143 -** Thank you so much for that! I don't know how you have such a good attention span. I can't read entire fics like that. At least, it's very, very rarely. Thanks for taking the time to leave such a lovely review, it's much appreciated :).

**wannabebo352 -** Yep, it's bittersweet. That's the word going around. Thanks for your feedback and I hope you like the final chapter.

* * *

If I didn't know that it was impossible, I would have sworn that I almost fell asleep that night. Being with Ashley however I wanted to be and being as close as I wanted to be without my usual physical reaction, was indescribable.

For the past few hours, I haven't spoken to her much. I give her my smiles of reassurance and my hands caress when she walks past, but I don't know what to say. We're in her room. I'm sitting on the floor leaning against the wall and Ashley is sitting on the bed next to her mother.

Her parents arrived home yesterday morning after I assume the police got in contact with them. I couldn't look at their faces when they walked through the front door. I didn't want to see their grief. They could have been better parents, no question about it, but they could have also been worse.

Ashley is sitting close to her mother, her head is leaning in toward her shoulder and she doesn't look like it's hurting her at all. Christine looks at a picture of Ashley that has been in her room for months. She's sitting on the beach at sunset, candidly smiling at someone out of view. The picture is lifted and brought closer to her face. I see her smile faintly and trace the edge of Ashley's face in the photograph.

I expected Ashley to cry at least once with her parents, but that hasn't happened. She's looked upset but no tears have formed. I don't know what's going through her mother's head, how could I? She isn't crying. I didn't hear her cry all day yesterday, either. She's been like this ever since I finally dared to look at her last night.

When Ashley was with her father, I told Christine that I was sorry. I was _so _sorry.

A kiss is placed on the photograph and it's put back in its resting place before she takes a deep breath and leaves the room. I take her mother's place on the bed and let Ashley lean her head against my shoulder, I take her hand without thinking and hold it with my own.

"I'm okay," she says without me having to ask.

"It's okay if you're not," I remind her.

"I know." Her hand applies a little more pressure to my own.

"I need to ask you something," I begin softly, "But I don't want you to take it the wrong way, all right?"

"Yeah, okay," she acquiesces

I lean toward her a little more, pressing us closer together. "Why did you decide to do it when you did?"

"Because I needed you," she replies seriously.

"But you said you would wait."

Her head nods briefly in agreement. "That was before Erin, Spence." She exhales softly. "And I know you're thinking that it was a huge risk to take, but I just knew, Spence. I _knew _I'd be able to be like this with you."

I open my mouth to speak when she cuts in softly. "Don't say that we could have found a way because you know there wasn't one. There was never a way. It doesn't hurt when you're close to anyone else, and it doesn't hurt when I sit close to my Mom or my Dad, it was just something between us." She runs her thumb across the smooth skin of my hand. "I swear to you, I haven't regretted it, not even for a second. Okay?"

"What about your parents, Ash?" I ask her quietly, feeling terrible for them and not being able to imagine how losing a child would change you forever.

"We'll take care of them. They'll be okay Spence, I know they will."

I rest my head on top of hers, seeking comfort. "I don't know what to say. I didn't have to do any of this." I didn't have to console grieving parents.

"You don't have to say anything."

So I didn't, I gave her the simple contact she needed and kept hold of her hand.

I can't begin to imagine how I would have felt if I had to say goodbye to my family. Part of me thinks that I would have never been able to leave them, and part of me thinks that I would have never been able to witness their grief in the first place. I wouldn't have been able to hear them cry, watching a part of them die too, and, eventually, see them begin to live again. Without me.

Ashley spent another week with her parents, helping them cope and hoping they felt that she was there, that she was okay. And she was more than okay, I made sure of it. We heard them discussing moving house again and going back to California. Ashley isn't worried because she knows that it doesn't matter where they are, she'll always be able to find them as long as they're underneath the sky.

I've been feeling something for the past two days, something that tells me it's time.

I'm not embarrassed or ashamed to admit to being a little scared. I've gotten so used to being here without really being here and having this safety bubble in the form of my house and being able to see my best friend and fall in love with the girl who took over my bedroom and made me feel alive, that I wonder how I'll fare without it

"You feel it too, right?" Ashley asks from her position on the floor, sitting in front of the couch I'm on.

"Yeah," I reply quietly.

"Don't be scared," she tells me softly before lifting my leg upward to rest over her shoulder and kisses my quickly exposed ankle.

My hands reach forward and run through her soft hair to lightly scrape against her scalp.

Ashley wanted to spend one more night in the house and I had no objections, I would have done anything for her. We went to bed when her parents went to bed and I spent the entire night kissing her and touching her, making her feel loved.

I don't know if I was expecting her to go to the funeral or not, but she decided not to attend. I didn't want to go, either. I couldn't see that. She rubbed Christine's arm that day before she left for the church with Raife and I know that a lot of their family from California flew over and stayed in motels, not wanting to invade their privacy.

I didn't look outside the window once. I didn't want to see the car or what was inside it, just like I didn't want to see the cars with my family. Erin's family sent flowers and a card which was incredibly thoughtful considering they only met once. News travels fast.

I wonder what people will say about the house now.

* * *

Christine and Raife are finishing breakfast when Ashley looks to me and squeezes my hand. I take that as my cue to leave the room so she can say goodbye.

My eyes close when I hear her whisper that, despite everything, she loves them and she's sorry she didn't try harder to be a better daughter. I stop listening after that.

I told Ashley I wanted to say goodbye too and she let me have my privacy. Christine isn't looking at me, but I kneel on the floor next to her chair and put my hand on her forearm. She glances down briefly and refocuses her attention on the wall across from us. I imagine it's a feather touch at most. "I'll take care of her, I promise," is all I can whisper to Ashley's mother.

We leave the house and I close the door as quietly as I can manage. Ashley threads her fingers through mine and takes a deep breath.

"Are you okay?" I can't stop myself from asking even though I know it's more than likely a stupid question to ask at a time like this.

Her eyes quickly find my own. "I'm good, Spence."

"You're sure?" I need reassurance.

"I'm sure," she assures before she kisses my hand.

We begin walking away from the house that I doubt we will ever forget, past the little wall that I carved a greeting into, where Ashley first said hello to me without realising, where she used to sit with me without realising.

Ashley sees Mr Banks for the first time and he offers me the usual nod of recognition with a smile—and one for Ashley too—before sitting next to his wife. We walk past all the places we used to go and we barely utter a single word, not really needing to. Hands being held says everything that needs to be said.

When we get to the bottom of the road where we first saw each other, I look across the road and see Erin walking with her boyfriend. Her eyes land on mine and I send her the smile I wasn't ready to smile the last time we saw each other, it's a smile I'm certain lights up my entire face. The boy next to Erin is oblivious as her feet stay rooted to the ground, her eyes already filling.

She can't see Ashley but it's okay, this is our goodbye. "I'll see you when you're old and gross!" I yell across the street, knowing it's likely she will only hear it faintly at best. This is more than I've had before, so maybe, just this once, she will have heard me properly.

Bewildered and overwhelmed, Erin smiles a smile I haven't seen in over a year. She can only mouth "Loser" to me before she's nudged by her boyfriend, taking her attention away from me. When she turns back, she frowns. She can't see me anymore.

Re-facing Ashley, I hold her hand just a little bit tighter and we carry on walking.

"I wonder if we'll get to hang out with Elvis," she ponders aloud.

"I wonder if we'll sprout wings."

"You could rock a halo," she comments while looking at the space above my head.

"You could serenade me with a harp., I suggest, already picturing the sight.

"Totally, Spence."

The look she gives me causes me laugh and I awkwardly swat her on the arm with my free hand.

I barely noticed our surroundings change but suddenly everything looks different, it's clearer. It's clearer than I ever remember seeing anything, yet I see the same houses and roads I always did.

I hear Glen first.

"Sis, where the hell you been? We've been waiting," he says lightly.

I gasp and spin around in the direction of his voice and see him standing next to my parents. My mother is already crying but for just a second, I can't move. I can feel my heart beating again, I can feel it pounding. I'm certain it has everything to do with being _here _and finally seeing them again, hearing their voices and seeing the shapes of their bodies, knowing that after a second of looking into my father's eyes I can tell they haven't changed a bit.

I bite my bottom lip and try not to split my face in half with the smile that threatens to break free.

I feel Ashley squeeze my hand and I look to her before squeezing back and taking a step forward to introduce her to my family, to make it her own and to keep my promise to her mother. As we walk closer I can smell the perfume my mother always used to wear and I can't help breathing it in a little deeper.

Ashley releases my hand just before we reach my family and I know it was only done for my sake, so I can hug and greet them properly. My resolve not to cry crumbles as soon as hands that belong to my mother rest against my face.

"Mom," I breathe out, already crying.

She doesn't say a word, she just pulls me into the closest hug we've ever shared.

My eyes are closed but I hear Glen make a silly joke about him dying and going to heaven when he saw Ashley. It makes me laugh pathetically.

I love him.

"Spence," my dad calls softly.

I slowly pull out of the hug with my mother and keep hold of her hand when I turn to look at my father.

"Don't I get a hug?" he asks with the same friendly look on his face that he's always had, the same friendly look I know he'll always have.

I rub my thumb across my mother's hand and squeeze briefly before letting go and allowing bigger and stronger arms to pull me close and hold me even closer. I embrace him as tightly as I can, which probably isn't very strong from his point of view. "I love you so much," I say as clearly as I can manage, meaning everybody.

He kisses the side of my face and tells me that he loves me, too.

When I turn around, I look at Ashley and my shoulders slump because I don't know what to say to her, how to _begin _thanking her for giving me this. She nods knowingly before I even open my mouth.

I don't ask Glen for a hug. I just walk up to him and tiptoe before wrapping my arms around his neck and I feel his arms go around my waist right before I'm lifted off the ground. He's still wearing the cologne I used to hate but missed when I couldn't smell it anymore.

* * *

The hugs and introductions with Ashley went as well as I knew they would. They had knowing looks in their eyes before I even introduced them and I didn't see even a flicker of disappointment or disgust in my parents' eyes. Not even once.

My mother tells us we can go home and Ashley and I follow in the direction they all walk. I'm holding her hand tighter than usual, needing to. "I love you," I say to her, knowing that's all I'll ever be able to say to her.

She pulls my hand up to her heart. I can feel it beating again, reacting how it used to react when I'd kiss her in bed all those weeks ago. "I love you, too."

* * *

Before I join my family inside, I sit on the small wall at the edge of the lawn and watch them interact, something I haven't had the luxury to do in far too long. The once described mediocre house on Kenwood Avenue is now far superior. My family, including Ashley, are in the living room discussing something which, judging by the looks on their faces, is light and funny. Acting as if they don't have a care in the world. Acting as if they aren't dead.

But are we really?

Does any soul ever created through the ages really die?


End file.
